Forging Freyja - Chapter 13.3

   
Royal Palace
Lordinax
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
26 February, 3150

     Freyja descended the few stone steps as the door closed behind her. Grand Mistress Logan waited for her, having changed into a robe trimmed with a rich fur that matched the color of her hair almost exactly. She hadn't been exaggerating about the underground caverns. The engineers and designers had managed to somehow build around and into a vast system of caverns, shafts and caves which were variously filled with steam, water, and glistening displays of crystal and rock structure. She had walked by a mammoth pool where hundreds of people could likely swim, and gone down a series of hallways and passages, each carved and structured, until she had been led through a small door to this small room.

     It was dark, the only lighting being artificial, augmented by a few torches which cast alluring glows and shadows throughout the room. The walls and ceiling were cared into a deep blue rock, speckled throughout with silver like crystals that reflected the light like jewels. The floor was brief, little beyond a few ledges down to the circular pool of water that gleamed perfectly still until the occasional droplet of water created an artful series of ripples. The room was damp, but in a warm, inviting way that almost swallowed a person up.

     "You were not exaggerating, Mistress, this place is gorgeous. It's like something out of a myth." Freyja said, almost awestruck.

     Claire stood beside her. "It is amazing, isn't it. It took my grandmother years to construct all of the amenities down here. She wanted something that would surpass the old Logan palace back on Lothario. The caverns are almost all natural, excavated and expanded of course, reinforced and linked together. Everything down here is powered by the geothermal energy of the planet. There are saunas linked to salt steam vents, there are mud baths, heated pools, all regulated with the underground steam and water. This here is my personal bath, I can have the water anything from frigid to bubbling hot. When you feel the mineral rich water, it's as if the years are soaking out of your skin."

     Freyja took it all in, marveling in the beauty, all the while aware that the Grand Mistress was watching her reaction. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble, Mistress, this is beyond words."

     "Nonsense, it's no trouble at all," she stood behind Freyja, a few inches taller than her, and spoke over her shoulder. "You seemed dreadfully tense back in the throne room. I dare say I blame you, this is all a lot to take in. But I wanted to discuss things with you somewhere that we could be more casual and relaxed, just two women, albeit powerful ones, talking about the world.

     Claire drew out her words like art. At the words casual and relaxed, Freyja felt the other woman's fingertips tracing the base of her neck. By the time she reached the word powerful, she had started unzipping Freyja's corset ever so delicately. She hadn't anticipated this. Sure, the Grand Mistress was a beautiful woman, and one who exuded power and confidence, but Freyja had cast the powerful allure out of her mind as simple playful fantasy.

     She turned her head to the side, "Mistress, you don't have to do that," she halfheartedly protested.

     Mistress Logan paused briefly. "I know that, my dear. This is my private domain, I don't do anything that I don't want to, and I certainly don't do anything that I feel I have to." She slowly resumed her gentle pull on the bodice's zipper. "Don't feel intimidated either, dear. It also goes without say that you do not have to do anything you don't want to down here. You are totally safe with me here, and you can go whenever you like. It will have no bearing on the decisions I make for out there."

     She finished speaking just as the zipper reached it's bottom, releasing the final bindings of tension that pressed in on Freyja's top, leaving the corset held up only by the fact that Freyja's arms were at her side. Claire stepped around Freyja and took one step down to a lower ledge, untying the cord that held her robe tight and letting the garment drop as gracefully as if it were a stream of water in one of the surrounding caverns. She spun as she took the next step, displaying with an alluring pride a body that most women across the Inner Sphere would kill for. She had curves in all the right places, and if there was a flaw anywhere on her skin, the haunting light of the room certainly did not reveal it to Freyja's eyes.

     She stepped down and back into the water, sinking to her shoulders and sending ripples across the pristine surface of the water. She softly floated back until she reached the back lip of the pool, and then she leaned back, lifting her arms out of the water to hold her up as she fixed Freyja with her gaze. "Stay or go as you like, dear. But I promise this will be worth it."

     Freyja hesitated for a moment, but before she could let her mind posit too many consequences and problems, she stepped forward and let her corset fall. She unzipped and removed her boots, then her trousers followed slowly and deliberately, all the while she tried not to blush as she was fully aware of being under the complete gaze of the Grand Mistress. When she had totally disrobed, she took a step forward, then sunk a foot tentatively in the water, which was pleasantly warm. Finally she stepped off completely and let herself sink slowly beneath the surface. She felt stone beneath her feet as she focused on testing the depth of the water. Her feet could reach the bottom if she tried, but it was not so shallow that she couldn't let herself float.

     She leaned her head back slightly, and smiled broadly as the warm and almost effervescent water engulfed her body. She let out a deep breath. Claire Logan had not been lying. The water was warm enough that it seemed to wrap her in safety, but there was also an ever so delicate tingling sensation that practically drew the stress from the pores of her skin. "This is incredible, Mistress. I've never felt anything like it, even back at Castle McCarron."

     Claire smiled warmly. "You can see why it's my private retreat. When I'm soaking here, I can let the outside world's pressures melt away and let my mind simply float."

     Freyja shot the older woman a coy smile. "You mean to tell me you don't entertain all your guests down here?"

     Clair laughed delicately. "Oh dear god, no. I wouldn't have the beauty of this place spoiled by having some rich, fat Marian envoy plopping down like a whale in it. Only beauty and serenity allowed down here, dear."

     Freyja blushed slightly. "There you go flattering me again, you must be buttering me up for something."

     Claire smiled disarmingly. "Not guilty, I assure you, my intentions are sincere."

     Freyja laughed playfully. If the Grand Mistress was trying to disarm her, it was working. She felt unexpectedly safe and free. "Beauty and Serenity? My Grandmother was named Serenity, you know. I never knew her. And my mother's name is Temperance, and a less fitting name you probably couldn't find, so I don't know what that's worth."

     Claire tilted her head thoughtfully. "And you are named Freyja. A Norse Goddess, if my memory serves me. Quite fitting, I would say."

     Freyja bit her lip. "There you go again with the flattery, Mistress. I'm starting to get paranoid."

     The Grand Mistress shrugged delicately. "Come join me over here dear, and we can discuss things."

     Freyja paddled softly over to Claire's side of the pool. She started to move to sit beside the other woman, but Claire lifted one of the arms she had resting on the lip of the pool and directed Freyja closer to her. Then she gently twisted her by the shoulders until she was floating in front of the Grand Mistress with her back facing her.

     As she spoke, she began to gently and delicately unbraid Freyja's hair. "This pirate business has been both a blessing and a curse for me. It has made quite clear something I've known for a long time. I have inherited a realm with a critical weakness. We struggled for our freedom for decades, and while we have gotten it, I find myself leading a collection of 6 weakly held together worlds. Lordinax and Lothario are united enough, I suppose, but you've seen firsthand what a lack of central authority has done to your world."

     Freyja nodded. "It does seem rather slap-dash. We had a hell of a time pulling together resources with such disparate principalities and fiefdoms"

     "Precisely. In order to stabilize and grow my realm's power, I have to first stabilize the parts. You saw how hard that was even with a pirate threat breathing down your necks. But, that means we have an opportunity on Lummatii. Your world is at a critical time where it may be ripe for solidifying under a single authority. You have helped bring that about with the force you have forged, and with your victory. So it's only fair that you weigh in on my decisions, don't you think?"

     While part of her was wildly excited with a beautiful, powerful woman playing with her hair, she was also beginning to feel surprisingly relaxed and clear of mind. "I see your problem, Mistress. What options are you considering?"

     Claire had completely unbraided Freyja's hair by now, and was gently massaging her scalp with her fingertips. "Senator Ghant wants me to expand the power of the Senate. As it stands now, each of my six worlds elects three Senators who come here to advise, but they hold little real power. Mr. Ghant wants the senators to function more like a governor, with each planet effectively having a ruling council of three Senators. It sounds dreadfully complicated to me, but what are your thoughts, dear?"

     Freyja leaned back slightly more into the Grand Mistress. "I am thoroughly unimpressed by Senator Ghant. He didn't have the balls for a fight, but now he's trying to ride the coattails of our victory. He's a politician, not a leader."

     Claire Logan chuckled softly. "That was my assessment as well. He's good enough of a politician to control the council, and bad enough of a leader that it would be more harm than helpful." She started gently massaging Freyja's shoulders. "The simplest option, and one that I broached the subject of earlier with Count Logan, is to simply elevate Gunnar Logan to Duke, and make him planetary leader. I know you two have formed something of a power bloc. So let me ask you, is your alliance with him one of the head," she paused and slid her left hand around and gently cupped Freyja's breast as she spoke in her ear. "Or an alliance of the heart?"

     She felt her heart race slightly faster. "I'm not sure I know the answer to that myself, Mistress. I would be lying if I said I don't have feelings for Count Logan. But being honest, I can't deny the practical points of having such an ally, especially having just freed myself from servitude. So i don't honestly know."

     "I understand. Let me ask it another way," she slipped her other hand around and traced it gently over Freyja's abdomen. She didn't know if it was the water, or simple human chemistry, but Freyja tensed and tingled with the older woman's touch. "Did you intend to conceive his child, or was that simply an accident?"

     Freyja jolted back to reality and spun around to face Mistress Logan. "How did you find out about that? Who?"

     Claire gently caressed Freyja's cheek. "Relax, dear. I only had suspicions. Well, that is, until your reaction."

     Freyja clenched her jaw. She would have made a terrible poker player.

     Claire continued. "I'm quite good at reading people, that's all. Just like I felt things would be so much more productive down here, just the two of us, instead of that stuffy old throne room. You're drawn to power, like you're drawn to Gunnar, and to Me." Freyja glanced down at the water. "Don't take it as a criticism, dear. You're drawn to power because you're a woman of power yourself. You wouldn't be here with me now otherwise. You just need to learn to use and embrace it."

     Freyja forced herself to relax and fall back into the bliss of the pool. "I didn't plan it. I didn't even know about it until after the battle."

     Grand Mistress Logan thought for a moment. "No, that wouldn't be your style, would it, my dear."

     Freyja leaned back into the Grand Mistress. She was terribly enthralled by this woman, and she didn't know why. "Why are you so interested in my relationship to Gunnar. Are you planning to make him a Duke and you want me to be your tool to keep him in line and steer him, is that it?"

     Claire Logan inhaled deeply. "I have no doubt you could manage that, but I'd never ask a woman like you to be a simple....tool. And the fact that you've as much as told me that you didn't conceive his child as a means to power shows me that manipulation is not your game. No, my plan is something entirely different." As she spoke the next few words, she gently slid a hand between Freyja's legs. "I plan to elevate you to a Duchess"

     Freyja gasped, a combination of shock at what she had just heard and pleasure as Mistress Claire had teased her. She gently tossed her head back onto Claire's shoulder. "You're not serious."

     "Why not? I am entirely serious. It's perfect. You're at the peak of your popularity, and your power. You can't even admit that you want the power, so that curbs your ambition. You're smart. You're an outsider so you aren't enmeshed in all the baggage of family history around here."

     Freyja blinked back surprise. "But, a month ago I was a slave. I'm not even twenty years old. An entire planet? That's insane."

     "I told you, my dear, I'm good at reading people. I know you're the right person for this. And I know you're going to say yes. Because you can do it, and you can make a difference. And because you're drawn to power. That's why you accepted my invitation, It's why you didn't walk out the door, and it's why you'll come to my bedchamber when I invite you tonight and we'll work everything out."

Forging Freyja - Chapter 13.2

Royal Palace
Lordinax
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
26 February, 3150




      Freyja had been to various seats of power before, as a child, but they had all been far less opulent and grand than this, usually the head of a continent or perhaps a planet, but never an interstellar realm, albeit one as small as the periphery Lothian League. The throne room was decorated lavishly with rich woods, furs, and the horns of various animals, all in very dark and cold colors highlighted by ice-like crystals, a very Lothian style indeed.

     Freyja made her way, led by the court functionary who had finally fetched her in the late evening. She was obviously the last of the group to be granted an audience, but she hadn't minded, and she certainly didn't mind as she took in the beauty of the palace. Freyja had opted towards a more military look in her choice of attire for the formal audience with the Grand Mistress of the Lothian League. She wore knee length dark boots, dark brown leather trousers, and an ivory colored corseted bodice that left her shoulders bare, but for the dark brown cloak she wore, highlighted with golden Lummatiian fur, and her golden hair which hung over her one shoulder in a powerful braid.

     Freyja approached the throne. Grand Mistress Claire Logan was a strikingly beautiful woman, possessed of a beauty that was classic for nobility. Her features somehow managed to look soft and delicate while at the same time radiating power. She wore a dress of soft white that looked as if it were draped over her by a million tiny angels, constantly adjusting it so that it sat and flowed flawlessly. Her chocolate hair held not a hint of grey, in spite of her nearly fifty years, and was highlighted only with the same ice-like crystals that seemed to dominate the throne room. Her deep brown eyes radiated warmth and power simultaneously.

     Freyja stopped and knelt short of the throne on which Mistress Claire sat, at a signal from the functionary escorting her. The man bowed his head and spoke. "I give you Grand Mistress of the Lothian League and Duchess of Lordinax, Claire Logan. Mistress, may I present to you, Freyja McCarron, of Lummatii" Freyja tried not to be overwhelmed with the vast differences in their two titles, but she still felt a nervous energy flowing through her body.

     Mistress Logan rose and walked over to Freyja, took her hand and gently lifted her from her kneeling position, then proceeded to brush her lips across each of Freyja's cheeks in a delicate kiss of greeting that sent shivers through Freyja's body. "I am so pleased that you accepted my invitation, dear." She spoke perfect standard Terran English with only the slightest hint of Scandanavian tones.

     Freyja cast her glance downward almost bashfully, "The invitation of a noble head of state is not one to dismiss lightly, Mistress."

     Claire raised her brow lightly. "Oh my, your accent really is delightful. Wherever were you raised to speak like that?"

     Freyja was slightly taken aback. "My parents were both nobles, at least of a sort. I had good tutors. But I suppose mostly I picked it up from my Aunt Catherine. She's a Trueborn Clanner who talks like something out of Dickens or Austen. I never really paid it much mind."

     Claire smiled charmingly, "That's a tragedy. If I ever have need of someone to narrate my life, I'll know where to turn. Walk with me for a moment, my dear."

     Freyja walked the perimeter of the throne room with the Grand Mistress, noting the pieces of art that lined the myriad of alcoves. "I suppose I should apologize to you for the poor welcome you received to my realm. I know a little of your story. Dreadful what happened to you. I tried to totally abolish slavery within my realm some years ago, but it almost brought us to war with the Marians. In the end I had to settle for outlawing slavery only of League citizens. I'm afraid that didn't help your cause any."

     Freyja shrugged softly. "You can't be held responsible for what happened to me, Mistress. That was entirely a product of bad luck and my own naivete.

     Mistress Logan swept a strand of hair from her face. "Perhaps. But look how quickly you rebounded, my dear. You went from a helpless slave to traveling here with a Count on your arm." She paused and gave Freyja a playful smile. "And a rather delicious one at that, if I dare say."

     Freyja smiled and blushed slightly. "Count Logan and I have been fortunate to have hit it off rather well, I suppose.

     "Indeed. And not only have you caught yourself a nice piece of noble candy, you have also amassed a not insignificant military force that owes it's loyalties to you. Quite the turnaround, young lady."

     Freyja paused and looked at the Grand Mistress. "That force is no threat to you, if that is what you're worried about, Mistress. I raised them only to defend the people from extortion."

     The older woman held a hand to her chest. "I'm sorry, dear, that sounded dreadfully adversarial, didn't it. I didn't stop to think that with how you've been treated out here, you might take it that way. It was a compliment, I assure you."

     "Think nothing of it Mistress," Freyja hoped she hadn't offended her host.

     "As I said, I have a proposal to discuss with you, but it's getting late. There are a few things I must attend to before the day slips away entirely, the burdens of leadership, you understand. Perhaps it would be better if we discussed my ideas in a more private and informal setting than this place." she waved a hand at all the surrounding opulence. "The palace here is built over some amazing geothermal pockets. I have a dazzling array of pools and spas down there, I would love it deeply if you would join me for a soak. We can relax and discuss my ideas without all the hustle and bustle."

     Freyja shrugged gently. "I'm afraid I didn't pack for a vacation, Mistress"

     Claire waived her objections away delicately with her hand. "Nonsense dear, you're my guest here, we will take care of you. I promise it will be very worth your while," she said with an almost seductive smile.

     Freyja hesitated for a moment, before nodding in affirmation.

     "Splendid. Let's say in an hour. I'll have one of my ladies show fetch you when I'm ready."

Forging Freyja - Chapter 13.1

Capital City
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
5 February, 3150




      Freyja woke to a knocking at her door. She ignored it the first time, slowly sitting up in bed and pulling a robe from the nightstand to wrap around herself. As she pulled her shoulders together, savoring the soft warmth of the robe, the knock repeated itself.

     "Come in," she called out. She heard the clicking of the outer door, and as she ran her hands through her hair, the inner door to her bed chamber opened, and Clarissa Bakker's head poked through cautiously.

     "I wasn't trying to intrude dear, I just wanted to check on you." The older woman walked over to Freyja's bed and sat down beside her after Freyja patted the mattress in an invitation. "Are you doing alright dear? You've been through a lot and you've not really come out to see anyone."

     Freyja nodded a faint smile. "I'm ok, Clarissa. Really I am."

     Clarissa rubbed her back gently. "Gunnar Logan wants to talk to you."

     Freyja closed her eyes. "I don't much want to talk to him. Truth be told I don't particularly feel like talking to any of you, but him especially."

     "For what it's worth, dear, I'm sorry. My first instinct was to tell you. But we came to realize that it was best not to. I know that, as a woman you would have wanted to know, and as a mother you would have wanted to know. But you have to ask yourself, as a leader, would you have wanted to know?"

     Freyja turned. "I didn't ask to be a leader. I don't want to be a leader. I'm not a leader."

     Clarissa turned to face her, pulling one knee in, and taking Freyja's hands in hers. "I know you may not have asked to or wanted to, but you are a leader now. You led the defense of an entire world."

     Freyja shook the statement off. "I stood up and did what I had to, nothing more."

     "Sometimes that is what being a leader is all about. But you did what you had to, and you did it well. You probably kept my son alive with your actions. He won't stop talking about it." She smiled softly, reassuringly.

     "I still wish someone had told me. Maybe I'm just being selfish, but that's how I feel."

     Clarissa nodded in that calming way she seemed to be able to so easily. "You're being far from selfish. Have you given thought as to if you're going to keep the baby or not?"

     Freyja let out a deep breath. "I don't know. I can't imagine not keeping it. But it's not entirely my decision either. And I don't even know if it's still alright, after all this chaos."

     "We can go and get you checked out today. I have contacts in the hospital, we can get it done quietly. And it absolutely is entirely your decision."

     Freyja squeezed Clarissa's hand. "I don't even know how I go about making a choice like this. I don't know if it's Gunnar's, or that monster's. I don't even want to talk to Gunnar about it. I just don't know."

     Clarissa put a hand on Freyja's cheek. "Dear girl, you will make the right decision. I have faith in that. And remember this, no matter who is the father, the child is still yours. But think on this. All these choices running through your mind now, can you imagine having to fight the battle you just did with all that in your head? Would you have had the resolve to fight that beast? Would you have been able to put not only yourself but your child at risk? And would worrying about making those choices have caused you to hesitate, or hold back at the wrong time and gotten yourself killed? That, dear Freyja, is why we chose not to tell you. Think a little about that before you decide how you feel about him not telling you."

     Freyja paused, then nodded. "Thank you, my lady. I will. I promise."

     "You know you don't have to call me that anymore. You are a free woman. You owe me nothing."

     Freyja shook her head. "I know. And you never made me feel like I did. Thank you for that, as well."


Capital Building
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 February, 3150



     It was now much later in the day, and Freyja sat at a triangular table. She had dressed professionally, with black trousers and knee length boots, and a white blouse cut crisply along almost military lines. She wore her hair up, and away from her face.

     The other two men in the room both wore crisp suits. Gunnar Logan wore his tie slightly loose, and his jacket open, and was obviously trying to give off a more relaxed vibe, in spite of the setting. The other man, planetary Senator to the Lothian League Chester Ghant, wore his tighter and more buttoned up, clearly trying to give off an air of authority. Freyja already didn't like him.

     "I'm glad everybody could come. With this pirate business behind us, we're at a crossroads, and we have to give the people the leadership they're looking for. They want security and unity, so it's going to be up to us to give it to them. As the only of the three planetary senators currently on world, obviously it's my duty to keep things running smoothly, and I have very important tasks for the both of you."

     Gunnar Logan flipped his pen onto the table. "I'm sure you have plenty of ideas and plans, Senator, but what you don't have is any actual authority. Oh yes, you're a Senator and all that, but all that means is that you're one of three people elected to convey our views to the League Government." He turned to Freyja. "What he's hoping is that you don't understand the complexities of government out here, and don't realize that all he basically does is act as a messenger boy from us to the Grand Mistress on Lordinax and vice versa. We elect three senators to the senate, they go to Lordinax and supposedly represent our interests, and return and let us know what we need to about the directions from the League Government, which is basically the Grand Mistress. With everything up in the air, it seems, as though the good Senator assumes everyone just accepts him as de facto planetary ruler. Is that about the size of it, Senator?"

     The thin man rolled his eyes. "Count Logan, you're hardly one to lecture me on principles. You're well regarded as just a noble playboy. Your parents died and left you a big grant and title, and you just live off the fat. I, on the other hand, happen to be the only one here who has been granted the vote of the people."

     Count Logan leaned back and laughed. "You were voted to be a mouthpiece, not to lead anything. Hell, you only own barely enough land to live on to keep residency, you just make all your money off world."

     The senator leaned on the table with his fingertips. "So what, you happen to have inherited a big chunk of land that includes the capital and a lot of people to pay you taxes. It's not like you run the capital or lead it or anything, you just run it as your personal brothel, the city government handles all the municipal business."

     Freyja cleared her throat. She was getting annoyed at the back and forth testosterone competition. "Can I take this opportunity to remind you both that I'm the only one with a force of BattleMechs and combat vehicles, and who just so happened to have saved the planet?"

     Gunnar chuckled softly and threw his hands up in a gesture of mock defeat. The senator, on the other hand, was not be cowed so easily. "With all due respect, Miss McCarron, you're a soldier that did a job. We thank you, but don't get delusions of grandeur here.  A few days ago you were a slave. You still legally don't even have the right to cast a single vote. Don't go thinking you control the militia or anything."

     Freyja sat back and frowned. "Senator, you don't have a planetary militia. All you've got is a few companies of infantry and a handful of armored vehicles, and I don't even think they would follow you. I on the other hand have a company plus of Battlemechs, another company of conversions on top of that, two ad hoc companies of armored vehicles, and probably damn near a battalions worth of infantry. I'm the one that pulled them together, I'm the one that led them in battle, and I'm the one that kicked the pirates asses. You didn't even want to fight him, you wanted to try to pay him off. I'm the one that cut his damned throat. I'll cast my vote with that."

     The senator harrumphed angrily. "You still have no standing, girl. By all rights I could have you arrested for killing that Trogg fellow. The fight was over and he was a prisoner, and you killed him in front of thousands of witnesses. Don't trifle with me, girl."

     Freyja stared at the senator. "Cheering witnesses."

     He shot her a confused look. "What?"

     She stood up and fixed him with a glare. "Those thousands of people who watched me slit his throat. They cheered. So go ahead and arrest me, Senator. But you won't, will you? Because you don't have the balls for it, for one. Secondly, even if you did have the balls to do it, good luck finding even one of your men who would follow the order to arrest me. And three, who are all those people going to back in the end? The little man who pissed himself and wanted to give up, or the bitch that stuck a knife in the pirate bastard's throat? Go ahead, Senator."

     Count Logan stood up and coughed slightly. "As entertaining as this is, the discussion is pointless." He flipped a folder to both the senator and Freyja. "That right there is a directive from Grand Mistress Claire Logan. Communication might not be what it was, but I took the liberty of sending word to Lordinax asking for help when this whole Raiden Trogg situation hit us. She couldn't spare any forces to come help in our defense, but she wished us well, and in the event that we should come out on top, she wanted to invite all interested parties to an audience with her on Lordinax at our earliest convenience to discuss, in her words, 'the matter of more coordinated planetary government' here on Lummatii. If you look at the list of interested parties, it contains four names. Count Gunnar Logan, as the lord of the largest fiefdom on the planet. Senator Chester Ghant, as the longest serving representative from the planet. Lord Governor Ethan Killorn, as provincial governor of the largest province on the planet in terms of population and land mass. And Freyja McCarron, as the leader of the largest military contingent on the planet. Now, as we know, the Lord Governor was killed when Trogg's people rampaged through Abercrombie trying to draw you out, Freyja. So that leaves the three of us to answer the Grand Mistress' call."

     Senator Ghant threw up his hands. "This is outrageous. Governor Killorn is dead because you were too cowardly to fight in his defense, for one!"

     Freyja pointed angrily at the senator. "Don't you dare. I was out there fighting while you were cowering. And I followed the plan we laid out. The Lord Governor knew the risks."

     "And how the hell does the Grand Mistress even know who you are? You're just a little upstart!"

     Count Logan interrupted. "The Grand Mistress knows because I have been sending her dispatches as best as I could. I don't know what all has gotten through, but obviously enough. This is her directive, and I don't think you want to ignore that, senator."




     A few hours later, darkness had fallen and Freyja stood next to Gunnar on the balcony of the Logan estate. She had her hands tucked inside a soft, fur muff, and the hood of her coat lay back just enough that the soft fur lining rubbed softly against her neck. If there was one upside to this back end of the Periphery, she thought, they certainly had amazing furs.

     "You really put the Senator in his place," Gunnar quipped.

     Freyja smiled. "He needed put in his place. But I think your letter from the Grand Mistress went a lot further in the way of that. By the way, this Grand Mistress, Claire Logan. Any relation I should know about?"

     He shook his head. "Not that I know of. Logan is a pretty common name out here. The Lothian League was founded by a Logan, but we're not all related to the ruling line. At least not in any meaningful way."

     Freyja watched as flurries fell to the ground. "What is she like? I always thought of the Lothian League as a sort of free state. A title like Grand Mistress doesn't exactly seem to fit in with that."

     Gunnar shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's not like the old days. The League of our ancestors was more about trade than anything else. Most of our planets are rich in ores, and historically we did a good amount of trade with the bigger periphery powers. But when the Marians came, and the Jihad in the middle of it, somewhere in the back and forth of freedom and subjugation to the Marians, things just got harder. Don't get me wrong, the League still isn't a military powerhouse by any means. Hell you saw that, there weren't even troops to come fend off the pirates. But it's a lot, I don't know, harder these days. More cutthroat. Mistress Logan is hard, cold, calculating. She doesn't rule harshly or anything like that, but she does rule firmly. Has to be that way. It's part of the reason I never really got into politics."

     Freyja smiled, and bumped her shoulder playfully into him. "Easier to be the playboy, right. Playing among the hordes of adoring young courtesans?"

     He accepted the barb gracefully. "I guess I just never had direction before. Nothing to focus on. Until now."

     She stared off into the gently falling snow. "It might not even be yours, Gunnar. You know that."

     He put an arm around her, and she didn't fight it. "Have you gotten checked out since the battle."

     She nodded but kept her gaze fixed on the darkness and the falling snow flurries. "Everything seems fine. I asked Miss Clarissa, there won't be any way to determine paternity until I'm past the point where I'd be comfortable making a choice."

     He moved to stand behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his chin on her head. "What are you going to do, Freyja?"

     She let out a long breath, watching the condensation form in the chill air. "I don't know Gunnar. I just don't know enough. I don't know."

     He turned her around to face him, pulling her close and looking her in the eyes. "Don't have a test done."

     She tilted her head, puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

     "Paternity, don't test for it. I'll claim the child as my own. No need for a test. No need for explanations."

     She shook her head. "I don't understand. You don't want to know?"

     "Part of me, yes. Of course. I won't lie. But if we have a test done, it will only complicate things. I'll help raise the child as my own regardless, but if we test and find out that I'm not the father, there's always going to be that hanging over us. Plus, no matter how quiet we try to keep it, it creates a record. Then our child has to worry about challenges to his or her legitimacy. What if we have more children? Then suddenly the first is somehow.....tainted. We can't un-ring that bell once we ring it."

     "Is this honestly what you want? It's early enough I could end it, we could start over with a blank slate. Or I could just go off and raise it on my own. You can go back to your high society parties and rotating women. You don't owe me anything, Gunnar."

     He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "No, I can't go back now. That's not who I am. It never really was. I just needed someone special enough to show me."

     She nestled her head into his chest. "Then we're in this together."
   

Forging Freyja - Chapter 12.4

Capital City
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 February, 3150




      A huge crowd had gathered at the steps of the capital building. Once word came that the pirates had been defeated, an almost parade like atmosphere had developed, with citizens flooding the streets. While the lives of everyday citizens perhaps hadn't hung in the balance no matter what the outcome of the fight had been, there was a general sense of elation at the fact that the specter of economic collapse brought on by the pirate's recent largesse had been lifted. And like any celebration, it had taken on a life of its own as the crowds had grown.

     The pirates who had survived the fight had been taken from their cockpits and now were bound and on their knees at the top of the steps, facing the jeering crowd. Freyja walked beside Gunnar Logan, with a parka over her mechwarrior garb, towards where members of the planetary militia guarded the captive pirates.

     "So what is all of this?" she asked him.

     "The people are letting go of all of the tension that's been hanging over them since the shakeup in pirate leaders. They're relieved, they're celebrating," he paused "And a lot of them are looking to you."

     She stopped and turned to him. "To me? All I did was stand up to that bastard."

     He nodded. "Which is a hell of a lot more than most people have done before. Look, the government around here has been shaky for decades. Are we Marian subjects, are we Lothian Citizens, what does either of them mean? This planet is fractured and we've fallen back on what has always worked, a network of feudal holdings that all hang together out of necessity. But there wasn't anything uniting them. Nobody to bring them together to keep someone like Trogg from stepping up and shaking everyone down. Those of us with money appreciate you because you saved us from paying a lot out to those guys. The common people see someone coming up from nothing to achieve something great."

     Freyja held up her hands. "I hardly came up from nothing. I grew up in a damned castle."

     He shook his head. "Not to these people. You came from the bottom of the barrel from what they see, and you kicked the bad guy in the balls."

     She played with the long braid of her hair nervously. "I don't want any of this. What the hell am I supposed to do?"

     "For now, you don't have to do anything. Just let the people know that the pirates are going to face justice, that it will all be handled, and that they're safe. There's a lot going on here, I know. We will just play it slow. It will all work out fine. You just have to play the happy heroine for a few minutes."

     She nodded. She walked the rest of the distance, past the kneeling pirates, until she reached Raiden Trogg. Even bound and with the guns of armed guards trained on him, his huge frame terrified her. She should have caved in his cockpit with the giant hatchet of her mech when she had the chance. Next to Trogg, she noticed the other woman from the night Trogg had visited the Bakkers.  She thought she saw a trace of fear in the eyes of the red headed woman.

     She faced the crowd. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say right now. We all stood up together, and we stopped these bastards from taking what wasn't theirs. We'll turn them over to the Marian authorities as soon as we can, at least those who haven't committed other crimes." She stopped and turned to face Raiden Trogg. "The criminals among them, we will have stand trial here in the capital."

     She stared into Trogg's eyes. "They will face justice"

     He smirked unrepentantly at her. "You think you can get rid of me that easy? You think you're on top of the world, don't you? You think you're hot shit, something special? Yeah, well remember, I've seen the real you. I've seen you all broken like a little whore, at my mercy, begging me to stop."

     Her rage boiled. It was as if the entire world were collapsing down on her. She felt as though she could barely breathe, and yet he continued on. "I know how you whimper, how you cry, how you taste. How you're nothing but a child, powerless when you come across someone like me."

     She looked over at the red haired woman who had helped her the night of her attack. The woman who could have done more, perhaps, but yet had somehow been broken by the villain that now mocked her. In that moment, something in her snapped.

     Her eyes darted to the nearest guard, who held an assault rifle at the ready. He had a pistol strapped to his leg. Finally her eyes settled on the knife secured in an arm sheath. Before anyone could react, she yanked the knife free and spun, plunging the blade into the side of Raiden Trogg's huge neck. She let out an almost primal scream as she rammed the knife deeper, hot blood from the wound pouring over her hands as she collapsed on top of the gargantuan pirate leader.

     She pressed down, holding the knife in as Trogg struggled at first, then less, before his movements stopped entirely. She felt Gunnar and one of the guards pulling her off of the lifeless body of the pirate, and she was struck by the fact that the crowd below them continued to roar. She struggled to break free until Gunnar grabbed her face in his hands and shouted at her.

     The sound of her name being shouted at her snapped her partially out of her rage. She stared at her blood drenched hands as Gunnar quickly ushered her away from the crowd and inside the capital building itself. She fell to her knees and her guts wrenched, causing her to vomit.

     She had no idea how much time had passed before she became aware of laying huddled in Gunnar Logan's arms. "Welcome back," he whispered.

     "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I'm just sorry. He just....he was too fucking arrogant, he was....." Gunnar pressed his fingers to her lips to stop her.

     "You don't have to apologize. I know what he did to you. Trust me when I say nobody blames you for what you did."

     She nodded, then paused for a moment in thought. "How did you know? I never told you, I didn't want you to think...well...to think about it at all. I didn't wan't you to have to think of me like that."

     He sighed gently. "The Bakkers told me, back when you were in the hospital. They thought I should know."

     She shook her head. "Why would they think that? It wasn't their place to tell you about that."

     He took a deep breath. "I didn't want to tell you like this."

     She gave him a scared look. "What are you talking about?"

     Gunnar closed his eyes to steel his resolve. "When you were in the hospital, the doctors.....they discovered that you were pregnant. Mrs. Bakker did the math, and given the timing......his attack on you made him a possible father, as well as me."

     She pulled away from him and shook her head in disbelief. "And nobody told me? Nobody thought to tell me?!"

     He looked away in pain. "We just thought it would be best--"

     She cut him off. "You thought it would be best if what? If I didn't know? Well I didn't know. I don't know! I don't know if I just lost your child fighting a fucking battle! I don't know if I just slit the throat of the father of my child! I don't know if I've got the child of that fucking monster growing inside me right now or not. You didn't think I should fucking know?!"

     She slapped him as hard as she could muster across his face, then collapsed sobbing into his arms.

Forging Freyja - Chapter 12.3

Village of Abercrombie
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 February, 3150




     "Keep to the woods, we'll string them out as long as we can. Put out a lot of fire, as much fire as possible, but keep an eye on your heat." The plan had gone as intended, with what appeared to be the majority of the pirate band heading out in force towards Abercrombie, where the locals made a big deal of staging their mech force. Freyja had a mobile lance, and they had been sniping at the pirates for nearly half an hour, trying to get a feel for what the pirate force consisted of.

     As near as she could grasp, there were two pirate lances out hunting them. A heavier lance, led by Raiden Trogg in his Grasshopper was maintaining tight formation, even if the mechwarriors under his command were bucking to be let loose. The lighter lance, a pair of Stingers, a Locust, and a Commando had been trying to bring Freyja's lance out into the open, but with little success. She knew she could crush the pirate lights with her lance, which consisted of Peter Bakker in the family Phoenix Hawk, an Uziel, a Fire Javelin, and Freyja in the -6D Hatchetman that had, up until a few days ago, belonged to warden Connors.

     But this was a rag-tag group, with no experience fighting together, and she knew that if she hit too hard on the pirate lights, there was every chance that her lance would get pinned down into a brawl with the heavier pirate reinforcements. All she had to do was keep them busy long enough for the rest of the resistance forces, led by Gunnar Logan in the capital, to overwhelm the pirate rearguard and dropship. Then, they could lead Trogg back to the capital and hit him between both parts of their force.

     But Trogg wasn't making that easy. She had to stay engaged enough, but not so deeply engaged that she couldn't get her people out.

     She saw the pirate Locust, the boldest of the light lance, emerge from the treeline, sniping at Peter in the Phoenix Hawk. She let her crosshairs hover over the bird-like mechs silhouette for a second, then pressed her thumb down on the trigger that sent all three of her ER Medium lasers lancing out toward the enemy. One struck the locust in it's bulbous torso, but the other two converged on the right leg of the mech just as it was planting to return into the treeline. The lasers were more than enough to burn through the armor and melt the myomer of the leg to slag. The bottom half of the limb spun off, and the mech unceremoniously planted the beak of it's medium laser into the ground.

     "Great shooting, Freyja!" She heard Peter shout over the comms.

     "I got lucky. We'll need way more of that if we're going to pull this off" she cautioned, as much putting a break on her own optimism as Peter's.

     "Look, they're heading for the town!" one of her other mechwarriors called out. Sure enough, the heavier mechs of Troggs lance were bounding toward the town of Abercrombie itself. No doubt he had grown tired of the cat and mouse games and was trying to bring her lance to battle.

     Then she heard his voice taunting over an open channel. "Whoever you little shits are, if you planned to stand up to me, you better come do it, before I level this little heap of buildings you call a town."

     She brought her Hatchetman up into a run and keyed the mic to her lance. "He's not giving us a choice. We have to hit him hard, then run for the capital."

     "If we run off, won't he just level the town?" Peter asked.

     "He might. But either way, we don't have enough force to stop him in a stand up fight right now. We've got to draw him back to the rest of our people, and hope that they've subdued his rear guard." She saw Peter fire off a full alpha strike of his lasers as she spoke.



Capital City
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 February, 3150


     Gunnar Logan let the chill winter air cool him as he stood in his combat shorts and vest on the embankment that marked the edge of the drop port for the capital city. Behind him, the pirate dropship, a bulbous Union class ship, stood silent. The pirates had been no fools. The forces arrayed against their dropship and reserve units might have been a rag tag collection, but it was a big enough one that it would leave a serious hurting on the ship in any case. Discretion was the better part of valor, and they had stood down with minimal fighting once they realized the odds and had been assured of fair terms.

     Off in the distance, a gentle rumble could be heard. It was the sound of battle being carried on the cold, gray air. Somewhere out there, Freyja McCarron was either leading the main pirate force back towards the drop port, or getting cut to pieces in a stand up battle. There was no way to tell which.

     "You think it will work?" Clarissa Bakker said as she wiped her brow with a towel. While Ned had returned to the estate, she had insisted on remaining behind and offering her medical skills to the resistance fighters, who were desperately short on such aid. Luckily, casualties in the initial scrap had been light. There were a few deaths, but most of the injuries were easily manageable and she had sent them off to the local hospital.

     "It has to," he nodded. "Our comms gear isn't strong enough to punch any kind of signal through to Freyja's people, or from them. The regular news channels will give us a bit of warning when the fight swings back this way, enough time to get mounted up again and ready for them. But we won't have comms with them till they get probably two or three clicks out. We just have to hope."

     She patted him on the shoulder. "You know, the scandal vids would have a field day with this if they saw you looking that worried over a girl."

     He scoffed. "Everybody thinks they know me. Hell, even she damn near got herself killed because she thought she knew what was in my head."

     She squeezed his arm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know you care about her, and I know how it feels to have to wait to find out if someone is alive or dead. It will work out.



Outskirts of the Capital
Lummatii
Lothian League
Marian Hegemony
The Periphery
3 February, 3150




     A lone Hatchetman stood defiantly a few meters out from the tree line, heat venting from it's sinks and from wounds gashed by enemy weapons, a scrap occasionally popping off to mar the pristine snow covered ground. Arrayed in a line across the white field stood a Griffin, a Shadow Hawk, and a Swayback, all centered around a battered Grasshopper.

     "We're almost there, we can turn and fight them now." Peter's voice said over the radio.

     "We're not close enough, and Stone's Javelin has a limp now. I have to trip them up, or they'll gobble our whole lance up and then hit our reserves piece by piece." Sweat was dripping from her brow, and her hair was now matted and wet with perspiration from the intense heat of the last several hours of combat.

     "We can't just leave you to them, we can--" Peter was trying to argue her out of it, but she cut him off.

     "You're going to fucking run, and you're going to fucking run now!" She didn't know from where she conjured up the authority she had taken the past several hours, and she was sure it would not float as military discipline, but she was not going to let things fall apart. "Alright, let's end this" she broadcast over an open channel.

     "I know who you are now." Trogg's voice came over the general frequency. "You're that little bitch of Ned Bakker's that I plowed around Christmas time. You sound a little different over the radio from when you were begging like a little girl for me to leave you alone" he laughed into the mic.

     She gritted her teeth and pulled into a long burst from her rotary autocannon, sending a vicious amount of fire out towards the Grasshopper that mocked her. She kicked her mech up into a run, dodging some but not all of the incoming fire as she barreled her way towards the pirate leader. Her blood boiled, her vision tunneled, and her hearing became little more than a shrill whine as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

     It was some time later that she became aware of her hearing returning, as her burning rage slowly subsided. Her mech was on it's knees, the hatchet buried deep into the chest of the dark Grasshopper, staked through the powerful gyroscope that normally kept the enemy war machine on it's feet. Now it lay there before her, silent and unmoving.

     Gunnar's  Black Knight stood over the scene, showing the scars of battle, but far fewer than Freyja's machine, which seemed held together around her as if only by her sheer will.

     "Freyja?! Freyja! It's over." She heard Gunnar's voice in her headset. She looked at her hands, now trembling with the blowback of an adrenaline withdrawal. She stared at the drops of sweat still dripping from her body and landing on the cockpit deck like rain. She started to cry, and then, as the tears burst forth, she passed out.


   

The Eve of Battle, Half a Sphere Away

Castle McCarron
Altorra
Sian Commonality
Capellan Confederation
3 February, 3150




     Catherine lay back in the chair, letting herself settle into the soft leather and closing her eyes. She focused on the sound of the fire in the fireplace crackling. Damn she felt old. The chill that had been a constant at the castle for it's almost one hundred years of existence caught up with her more now than it ever had before. Her senses were still sharp, but they told her of the annoyances that came with age, where she had once tuned them out. As she focused on the fire, she could almost convince herself of it's warming embrace, and that was enough to fight back the chill.

     As she sat, she heard the gentle rustling of fabric and the soft press of feet against the bare stone that made up so much of the floor of the castle. The sounds stopped as they reached the entrance to the study where she sat. For several minutes, she heard no sound but the crackling of the fire and the muffled howls of the outside wind. Then the sounds resumed, only this time, beginning to head away from her.

     "You walked all the way down here for a reason, child. Do not let one old woman taking a cat nap discourage you."

    The sounds stopped, though Catherine's eyes remained closed. "I'm sorry, Aunt Cat. I didn't know you were down here, or I'd have not disturbed you. I was just looking for a place to think for a few minutes."

     Catherine sat up straight and opened her eyes. "You can think just as well with me sitting here, Temperance McCarron, as not. I would have thought you asleep by now, you only just landed today." She watched Temperance as she made her way over to the cupboard. The younger woman wore a soft brown robe, embroidered with gold accents, which matched the warmth of her flowing deep red hair.

     "Scotch, Auntie?" she asked Catherine as she poured herself a drink. Cat merely nodded and let a slight hint of a smile reach the corner of her mouth. If I had a C-bill for every glass of Scotch I've had in this study.... Temperance made her way over to Catherine and handed her a heavy glass of deep amber liquid before taking a seat across from her.

     "So what is it that you are pondering at this hour, child?" Catherine asked. In years past, Temperance would have bristled at Cat's referring to her as a child. As silly as the application of the term was, with Temperance now entering her forties, with a little bit of aging on her own part she had come to pay a little more deference to Catherine's age of late.

     She passed a sheet of paper over to Cat, who began scanning it's contents as Temperance spoke. "I've had people keeping a quiet ear open for word of Freyja since she left. News doesn't flow the same way as it did before the blackout, but between my contacts and old connections of Marcus', I figured I could keep a decent net out for word of what she was up to."

     Catherine bristled at the mention of the name of the father of Temperance's children. "You would have a far greater net if those Republic bastards had not locked themselves up inside their damnable Fortress walls. Cowards way out." She watched for any sign of response from Temperance, but found none in the other woman's expression. She continued to scan the document in her hand. "You know Freyja would be staring those icy cold daggers at you if she knew you were keeping watch over her."

     Temperance frowned and took a drink. "I only wish I were watching over her. No, she struck out on her own, for the worse, as it would seem."

     Catherine raised an eyebrow quizzically until she spotted the final lines of the summary. She glanced up at Temperance, whose eyes showed a mixture of worry and anguish. "A slave market? She barely got off her feet before this happened. I suppose barbarity is not limited to the core of the Inner Sphere." The paper was a report, which ended with a summary information that consisted of the noting of the name "Freyja McCarron" appearing in a data grab that included various advertising, and the name of the system in the Periphery where reports indicated a transaction was likely made.

     "That information is over 9 months old. What am I even supposed to do?" Temperance asked.

     Cat put the paper down. "You cannot blame yourself for what happened to her. She knew the risks she was undertaking."

     Temperance ran a hand through her hair. "I don't blame myself Auntie. But I'm still her mother, I still have that urge to protect her. I know you probably don't understand the whole parent thing, but it's very real."

     Catherine closed her eyes. "Faith had already given birth to Acadia by the time I met her, you know. She and I spent much of that time on our crazy adventures, and with that, Acadia spent most of her early years with her father. But once she started to get older, and it became clear she wanted to be a mechwarrior, she spent more and more time with Faith and me. I still had a lot of hangups from my sibko days back then. But even with that, spending time with her, helping raise and train her, seeing her become a woman and a warrior.....I have often thought that is what it must have been like to feel like a mother. The sense of pride when she succeeded. The loss when she died. Not worse than losing Faith, but very....different. So I do understand, Temperance. I do."

     Temperance rubbed her temples. "Part of me wants to pack up and haul ass to the Periphery and tear them to shreds till I find her. But a tiny part of me says I have to let her live her life, to have.....faith in her. There's that word again. It always comes back to Faith with her. You said so many times that she was the most like Faith of any of us. I don't know if that's good or bad."

     Catherine smiled. "That was always the trick with Faith as well, you never knew if it was good or bad."

     Temperance leaned forward. "I don't think you've ever really talked about her to me."

     Catherine sat back and looked away into the fire. Temperance took another drink.

     "I'm sorry, I know you were close to her."

     Catherine kept her gaze fixed on the flickering flames. "I do not think even she and I ever really understood what we were to each other. It may sound strange, but sibkin is the word that most often comes to mind. We were like sisters in battle, like lovers in the aftermath. She could be coldly resolved one moment, drowning in drugs the next, and come back at the end of it all with enough passion to ignite your soul."

     There was a long silence before Temperance spoke. "What do I do, Auntie?"

     Catherine turned from the fire. "You go after her. But do not be surprised if you find you are not riding to her rescue. Go find her because you both probably need it. And be ready to be surprised, of that, I have all the faith in the world."

Forging Freyja - Chapter 12.2

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."