Morgana
by: Maggie Finson

 

PART FIVE

Chapter 7 - WARRIOR

 

The next sleep cycle was a very restless one for me. I couldn’t get several things out of my mind. First, that I had actually had her in my hands, more or less, and allowed her to go on Sylvan. How many lives would have been saved if I had simply rounded all the refugees up and delivered them to one of the camps set up for displaced Cheryii?

Realistically, I understood that Morgana hadn’t become the nemisis of the NTF back then, and I only saw her as a very courageous lady who had already lost far too much. Also, if she had been sent to one of those nightmarish camps, I really beleive that the pacification of Sylvan would have been much more difficult. Someone with her determination and skills would not have remained captive for long. The resulting guerrilla actions she would have no doubt coordinated and even led would have cost lives on Sylvan and deprived the NTF of the truly secure forward base they had wanted. A typical response would have been to unleash First Strike Troops on the entire planet and even considering that caused me to shudder in revulsion.

Either one would have been more of a no win situation than the NTF would have been prepared to put up with. At least that put my still active conscience to rest on one score.

The other was my increasingly unambiguious feelings towards this charismatic, frighteningly competent being who had once been my best friend. She was an enemy, and a very successful one, yet I found myself liking her more and more as we talked during our inactive waking periods. True, my present position could be laid at her delicate feet, thanks to her masterful defense/ambush at Kirkus IV, but I could no longer blame her for that. The NTF had savaged her people, her family, and her own sensibilities beyond all reason. In her position I would have done my utmost to get some of my own back, too.

In short, I found myself not only admiring her, but beginning to sympathize with her actions and reasoning. After being in such close quarters with her for days on end, it was very easy to see why the troops she commanded loved her so fiercely. She had sacrificed as much or more than any of them, and continued without hesitation. In her, the Cheryii had found the leader needed to confront the NTF and have a chance of winning. A very good chance.

Would their stubborn defense falter without her? I doubted that. Morgana had shown them how to fight the NTF, and the if the Cheryii were nothing else, they were quick studies. But they were more than that. Superlative fighters when there was need, and just as quick to show mercy to their vanquished foes if that was called for. Essentially, the Cheryii seemed to be a far better people than my own poor downtrodden Humanity. Yet, as Morgana herself had told me, Humanity had the potential to be even better, given the chance.

But that chance was being strangled by the NTF’s iron grip. She was right in another thing, the present ruling body of Humanity was like a disease, a cancer at the heart of something bright and beautiful. And I had recognized the disease. More, I hated it far more vehemently than any Cheryii could. For the first time in my life, I really questioned my loyalties after meeting her. The disturbing thing abut all that was the answers that I had come up with.

The NTF needed to be eradicated. Crushed into such small pieces that it would never threaten either Humanity or another race again. With that conclusion reached, I finally turned over in my bunk and managed to at least sleep.

 

* * * *

 

She was already up and out when I finally stumbled out of my cabin and headed for the pot of coffee thoughtfully already prepared.

"Thanks," I mumbled over the rim of a steaming mug of the strong, fragrant beverage.

"For what?" regarding me with one raised eyebrow and a small grin, she waved towards a platter of sausage and eggs. "Eat, my friend. You look as if it wasn’t an easy night."

"It wasn’t," I answered tiredly, then saluted her with my mug. "The coffee - regulation military issue brass cleaning strength - is something I really needed."

"You seem to be more at peace with yourself than I’ve seen before," sipping slowly at the fragrant tea she had prepared for herself, then nibbling at a piece of sweet melon, she gave out a musical laugh that filled the interior of our prison with a surprising joy.

"A few conclusions I should have reached long ago occurred to me last night," I returned with a wan smile. "I won’t say that I’m ever going to be a peace with myself over some of the things I’ve done or been an indirect party to in the name of the NTF, but yes, I’ve made a few decisions about things that have eased my mind."

"That is good, Curtis," setting the cup down, she gave me a searching look that ended with an expression of satisfaction. "If it helps, you aren’t the only member of your people wrestling with such things, or to reach the conclusions I believe you have."

"It doesn’t," my response was a bit gruff, but I tempered it with a smile. "But it seems that the time for someone to reach that conclusion is long past due."

"It has been reached, that is what matters, Curtis. That is the important thing."

"Yeah," seating myself and beginning to pick at the food waiting, I nodded. "I just hope someone else will be in a position where they can do something about it. I’ll likely be dead within the next few weeks."

Her only response to that was to shrug while picking up her cup for another sip. I found that gesture to be as expressive as hundreds of words. My own end would be quick and painless compared to what she was facing, and that caused a pang of sorrow and anger that I pushed down to somewhere it couldn’t hurt more than it had already.

"Situations are not always so hopeless as they might appear, Curt," was her soft answer to that, and all I got out of her was an encouraging smile when I gave her a sharp glance. "My own tale should be teaching you that, if nothing else."

"True enough," I agreed.

"Now, are you in the mood to listen some more, my friend?"

"Yes," thoughtfully chewing at a sausage, I was moderately surprised to discover that I’d nearly finished the platter of food. "Your story fascinates me, and very likely our jailors are hanging on every word, too."

"I won’t matter what they hear," shrugging while making a face at the video pickup we could see, she grinned back at me. "I really doubt they have the courage or inclination to really understand anything I’m telling you."

"Right. Up theirs!" I saluted the pickup ironically, then grinned back. "Lets hear some more."

 

* * * *

 

The outbound voyage from lost Sylvan was one of subdued mourning and tearful reunions. Morgana wondered if she too wore the bruised, grieving expression she saw on every other face among the refugees and crew of Frostfire. Cradling her surviving child, Maeve, she thought so from the looks others gave as she passed. But there was something else in those glances she received. Need. A crying need for reassurance that would be forthcoming from no one if she didn’t try to give it.

"Leilai," she quietly called to the house maid who had taken the child off planet while she had turned to other, equally important tasks. "Take Maeve for a while, I have to say something to all these folk."

"Haven’t you done enough for them already, Lady?" the maid questioned, though she took the child with a worried expression. "You are nearly done in yourself and we have just disembarked from the shuttle. Couldn’t you take a little time to rest?"

"There will be time enough for resting, Leilai," Morgana answered, feeling the weight of a responsibility she had never really considered settle like a raging bird of prey on her shoulders. "Now these people need some encouragement no matter how thin that may be. I should be the one to try and give it."

"By what right," Leilai began to question in outrage, "do they press on you such responsibility? You require rest and time to mourn as much as any of them, perhaps more. Your entire family, excepting those aboard this ship and your Mother, is dead, everything you held dear on Sylvan is gone. They are no worse off than you are Lady. Some I daresay, are better."

"Hush, now," Morgana interrupted with a weary sigh. "Their right is one of a people who have always looked to the Chddra’im family for direction. Niall is in a briefing, telling others the things we saw, discovered, and did back there. I am the only one here to do this. It is my duty."

Duty, she thought numbly. To herself as well. She had never been asked to shoulder much of that type responsibility in either incarnation and breifly wished it were not necessary at a time she only desired to find a secluded corner and cry her soul out. Yet it was necessary though it tore her heart to think of standing before all those bereaved and telling them what she knew must be said.

"Come, Leilai," with a slight gesture towards the forward section of the temporary quarters set up for the refugees and a slightly raised area there, she began moving forward. "The sooner this is done, the sooner all of us may rest a while."

Progress was slowed by extended hands, small comforts given and received, hushed words of encouragement and commiseration, and the requirement that Leilai, burdened with the baby, could keep up.

"The Lady is going to speak," moved in a hushed susuruss of whispers through the gathering. "Clear a way for her."

Surviving council members from BanLoch joined her slow march forward until those remaining were gathered protectively around her at the stairwell leading to other parts of the ship. Giving them her silent thanks, Morgana mounted the stairs until reaching the platform above the deck, then stood quietly at the railing with the heavy hatchway at her back.

"We have all lost far more than should be borne by anyone," she began without preamble. "Our homes, our families and loved ones, our very planet.

I too, feel these losses very keenly, though I will not catalogue my own here. This is neither the time nor place for such things. I will not insult your intelligence by exhorting anyone to put the grief aside and look to a future that appears admittedly bleak to all of us at this point. What I will do is tell you all that you are not alone. All Cheryii share our grief, and sense of loss, our outrage, our overwhelming anger at a race that would do this thing to us, or to anyone else.

All I ask of any here, is to recall that one of those people, a Human and our enemy, is responsible for our being free and here instead of dead or in some temporary camp set up to house unwanted survivors on Sylvan. I know that is hard to do, that it would be very easy to hate all Humans. Do not fall into that trap. It is the same that those ruling the NTF succumbed to long ago and all of us have seen the cost of that."

"Would you have us simply surrender to them then, Lady?" a bitter voice reached her from the rear of the assembly, "and hope for a change of heart among their rulers?"

"I would not," quelling a move to silence that one, or any others holding like sentiments with a simple gesture, she continued. "What has been done to us is a horror that can never be atoned for and we must fight to keep that from happening again. To either us or them. We are in danger of becoming no better than our true enemy, the NTF, should we begin to hate all Humans indiscriminately.

To those of you who are wanting to fight, and there are no few of those, I think," she went on with an unhappy smile, "Myself among them, we should remember who the true enemy is in this and bear in mind that Humans individually are only its tools. Meanwhile, I can assure you all that I will be in the forefront of this war, and the NTF will come to rue the day they ever heard my name."

A ragged chorus of cheers arose at that, and she reached down to take a squirming Maeve from Leilai and hold the infant so all could see her.

"I ask only that you all remember that we are not fighting for vengence. We are fighting for the little ones, like Maeve here, so that they may grow to adulthood in the same freedoms and peace that we have known. That is the one thing I beg and charge all of us here, myself included, to hold to ourselves and remember.

Now..." her voice began to break and tears flowed, "now it is time for grief. For counting our losses, those we loved who will never speak to us again save in dreams until we join them, the places we loved as much, and a home none of us may ever see again.

When that time is over," smiling as the tears ran down her cheeks unabated, she hugged her child tightly and gave her a gentle kiss. "I ask that you count what is left, and be glad that it is there. We have all lost much, but we have also saved many things. Please do not forget that."

That was answered with murmured approval that slowly grew into a ragged cheer punctuated with shouted commments. "We will remember, Lady!"

"Gods be with you, Lady!"

"I would follow you to the mouths of Hell itself!"

"Remembrance is all I ask of you," Morgana smiled again raising one hand in something like benediction and nodding. "The other things, well, we shall see. Hopefully, the mouths of Hell are something I will be taking to the NTF. Gods know we’ve already been there. Thank you, all of you. Now take the time you need to grieve. I’m going to. May every God who even tarries on the boundaries of good bless you all and grant you peace of mind."

"Well spoken, Lady," a quiet voice behind her brought her around to face a ship’s officer. "I am Herevin a’ Linguit’ahi, with the rank of Senior Weapons Officer. The captain and others wish to speak with you if it is not an inconvenient time."

"No time just now is convenient, Senior Weapons Officer Herevin," she responded with a tired smile. "But I fear convenience is something that will go by the wayside very often in the future for many of us. Allow me a moment for seeing to Maive here, and I will come."

Passing the infant back down to a waiting Leilai, she shushed the complaint from the maid before it began. "Peace, dear one. I must do this, too. I will be back when I have finished. I was expecting this invitation, and dreading it nearly as much as I dreaded the little speech I just gave. It is another thing that must be done. That is all. Rest, my friend, and gather your strength. Tell any who ask that I have gone to speak with the captain."

"As you say, Morgana," Leilai returned unhappily. "Just tell that captain that if he tires you too much he will deal with me!"

"I will pass that message on, dear Lady," Herevin answered with a nearly straight face, though it was clear that he found a maid’s threats more than a little amusing.

"See that you do," Leilai retorted, "or you, Chief Weapons Officer, will answer to me. I do believe that I might be able to find you in order to carry out that threat."

"She fought as well as any other at Ban Loch," Morgana put in while giving her servant and friend a wink. "You would do well to pay attention to what Leilai says."

"Oh, I will, Lady," Herevin answered quite seriously before giving Leilai a formal bow. "I am tempted to give you reason to find me, Lady."

"I am no Lady," Leilai grumped, then softened that with a sunny smile. "You have my permision to find me, should you wish."

"Count on it, M’Lady," Herevin bowed formally to her then turned to Morgana. "Lady? Captain Lochnadd awaits."

"Then let us not keep him waiting any longer than necessary,"

"Please follow me, Lady, Morgana" the young officer bowed again.

 

* * * *

 

Frostfire was a Banshee Class warship, slightly larger and much faster than a New Terran Frigate, mainly because of her light armor, more efficeint power plant, and dependcy on energy shielding and anti-missile batteries for defense. She also carried a pair of in-system fighters designed to dock on the outer hull at dorsal and ventral positions. Those facts, combined with a daunting array of heavy beam weapons and missiles, made them, as a class, respected and feared by their Human opponents.

But they were designed for quick strikes and withdrawal in rapid succession, not slugging it out from a near stationary position, which Frostfire had been forced to do at Sylvan. Morgana noted signs of heavy damage all the way through the narrow companionways, and that both fighter bays were empty during thier progress through the vessel. Damage control teams hurried from one point to another wearing the grim, weary expressions of people who had managed little in the way of rest for some time.

"It was as bad in orbit as it was planet side," Herevin offered tiredly, noting her attention to the ship’s condition and the damage control parties. "We tried to support the station, then were caught holding position for incoming shuttles. All the heavier ships were either engaged or disabled through the battle."

"Your crew and captain are to be commended," she replied with real respect. "And have my personal thanks for whatever that may be worth. "My Life Mate was aboard the station, and my one surviving child was on one of the shuttles you defended so well."

"The station didn’t survive, Lady," the young officer pointed out with regret in his voice. "we weren’t able to pick up survivors in the press, what few there were. Possibly your Life Mate was one of those."

"No," Morgana heavily returned, "I felt his death. Currain would not have abandoned his post or stopped defending the station or the world below until the fighting was over or he was dead. I have lost him, and will come to terms with that in my own time. Which is not now, Herevin. There are things that must come before personal concerns right now."

"Currain-Iey-Barltress-A’’Teerent’t sold his life dearly, then, Lady," Herevin nodded with a show of respect of his own. "The Humans had to concentrate on the station for some time, which gave the rest of our forces in system a badly needed chance to regroup and at least give them a fight."

"I know, Herevin," giving him a sad smile that was replaced with a look of determination, she lightly touched his shoulder. "Had I been in command of the Human fleet, the station would have been my first priority. Leaving an armed, armored platform in orbit and in the hands of the enemy would have been suicidal for the landing forces. Currain knew that as well."

The pair walked in silence for a few minutes after that until stopping in front of a slightly larger than normal hatchway. Touching the control beside the heavy door, Herevin gave her a low bow. "We are here, Lady. The captain is waiting for you."

"Thank you, Herevin," giving his arm a light touch and parting with a bit of her own precious energy to bolster his flagging strength, she gave him a lopsided grin. "It appears that you will not rest for some time yet, and I am a healer."

Looking a little stronger, and energetic, the youth grinned back. "My thanks, Lady Morgana. There is much to be done. In truth, it is taking heroic efforts to simply keep Frostfire together for this voyage. I should be seeing to my other duties now."

"Go with my blessings."

She thoughtfully watched his straight back retreat down the companionway for a few moments before turning to face the open hatch and yet another very drastic change in a life that had already seen many. Morgana had becme a Warrior on Sylvanus and was determined to remain one in the future regardless of other opinions to the contrary. Drawing in a deep breath and steadying herself, she entered the small briefing room to meet her future head on.

 

* * * *

 

"The Lady Morgana-Iey-Sylvanus-A’’Chddra’im," a guard announced as she entered the cluttered room. "Of the Warrior Clan Yllar’ium."

A group of four Cheryii around a small table halted their discussion and arose from their seats with formal bows of greeting. An older male wearing the insignae of a fleet captain, greeted her quietly. "Welcome aboard Frostfire, M’Lady, and my condolences on your losses."

"My thanks," her response was clear, and far steadier than she actually felt. Niall, off to one side, shot her a concerned look that she waved aside with a smile of encouragement.

"Along with my own condolences for yours, Captain."

"Forgive the informality of this meeting," the Captain went on after a nod of acknowledgement to her own greeting. "My ship has sustained heavy damage but we seem to be clear of hostile forces and are well enroute to Caer Ban now. Allow me to introduce my staff?"

"Of course, Captain," returning their bows with one of her own, Morgana gave them a genuine smile. "As for the informality, it suits my present mood. This is neither the time nor place for needless ceremony, is it?"

"Indeed, M’lady," the captain grinned tiredly. "I am Fleet Captain Doran Lochnadd of the Warrior Clan Sevainn."

"Well met, Captain Lochnadd, I understand my remaining family and I owe our lives and freedom to you and your crew’s courage. That is a debt that I will be a long time paying, but one I will never forget."

"That is appreciated, Lady, but now for the rest of my Officers," Lochnadd gestured to a youngish woman with bright red hair and a normally cheerful face worn by weariness from the past hours. "Kalliana Iey"Fovarn, my second in command."

"First Officer," Morgana greeted the Commander softly.

"Chief Science Officer Caighle Fynn," the youthful appearing officer favored her with piercing ice blue eyes that were startling compared to his dark complexion and inky black hair, then nodded his head in politely respectful response.

"Weapons Officer Shaidhe Lonlach," a weary, sad eyed young fellow who’s eyes kept straying to his comp pad, gave her a distracted nod, thought better of that and offered a smile filled with brilliant teeth that wakened his sleepy features into an animation that many would find dificult to keep pace with.

"My Chief of Engineering is dead, and his second is currently plugging holes in our hull and systems with his thumbs, from the way he tells it," Lochnadd smiled as the others grinned at that commment, then continued. "Chief Medical Officer Siodhan, is obviously occupied elsewhere, but you will meet him soon, I think.

Now, Lady Morgana," he continued gesturing towards a chair at the table as he and the others seated themselves without further ceremony, "Have a seat and tell us about how you defended BanLoch, and then searched for survivors in your outlying districts."

"Captain," Niall started forward to protest, but halted at the other’s outstretched hand and conciliatory expression.

"I know, young Chaddr’im, you have already given us the details and your sister has taken wounds on top of being exhausted," he responded with another tired frown, then softened that with a fleeting smile. "I must hear it from her viewpoint as well, likely your Lady sister has some different insights since she was clearly in command.

This will," turning towards Morgana, he finished, "be on the official records going to high command, so please, Lady, be as complete as you can with the telling."

She began, giving highly detailed descriptions of the events on Sylvan she had direct involvement in, finished almost an hour and a half later with the addition of some astute questions from all those gathered with the Captain.

"Remarkable," Lochnadd broke the silence following her answer to the last question put to the Lady. "You have shown a great deal of courage and good sense in most cases. Your defense of BanLoch was exemplary if a bit unorthodox, while your acceptance of that curious Human commander’s offer showed fine command sense in that more fighting when an option other than surrender was available would have ended your story, and future, rather abruptly.

Do you think," he continued, "that this rift between elements of the New Terran Fighting Forces might be exploited? Perhaps to the point of an actual rebellion of troops in the NTF holdings?"

"Not without outside assistance, Captain." Morgana stroked her forehead for a moment while thinking of a way to word her next opinion. "If that idea is to meet with any success at all we must be able to isolate certain officers and convince them that open oposition to The Office of The Inspector General and the ruling body of the New Terran Federation is not going to be a useless suicide on their parts. The kind of people we would need for such a thing are not the kind to throw themselves away uselessly, or without a thought. These officers are not martyrs, and have very little use for that type of thing, they are on the whole unforgivingly pragmatic and though willing to die, would not be so in a hopeless, throw away gesture simply designed to sow the seeds of chaos within the NTF.

They would make exceptional allies, but with minds, objectives, and hopes of their own. I can be reasonaby certain that these officers, like Shapiro, would be friends every bit as formidable as they are foes. But they must be sure that we are going to honor our agreements to the end and will not abandon them once their actions have given us what we desire."

"We honor our bargains, Lady," Lochnadd answered with a lift of an eyebrow denoting disapproval of any other notion. "Surely even our enemies know that?"

"They want to believe that." waving vaguely into the air, Morgana shook her head sadly. "But you, and others involved with them must understand that no matter how honorable these officers may be personally, their government and high command possesses no such scruples. Mistrust of their own leader’s motives and promises is so ingrained that absolute acceptance of any offer made will be difficult to achieve. They have seen betrayal and broken promises far too often to fully believe anything else is possibe except among themselves."

"Well put, M’lady." Lochnadd nodded thoughtfully then vented a sigh. "Though I am inclined to agree with your assessment, I fear our high command will find the idea more than a little far fetched. Should you continue to champion such an idea, I fear you will have a difficult time of it."

"I can be patient," Morgana gave a short, humorless laugh, "and persistent. Such a plan is the single best way to end this war and see a less bellicose government ruling Humanity."

"Personally, I agree," the captain put in, echoed with nods from the others arond the table. "Yet I doubt The Clans will be easy to convince."

"I am also stubborn,"

"A fact all of us can easily believe, M’Lady," letting out a truly mirthful laugh, Lachnadd favored her with an admiring look. "given what we have heard here today. Now I think we have tired you enough. Go back to your people, rest, give them whatever comfort you might. Once you have rested, we will speak again."

"I understand that your medical staff is very busy, Captain?"

"Frostfire was not intended to withstand a head to head battle with larger vessels, Lady," he responded wearily. "Our casualties among crew members were horrendous."

"There are healers among my folk, myself included," rising from her chair with a barely hidden effort, she finished. "Send someone to the dock where we have been quartered, and I will see to it that your medics have help."

"That will be done, with my thanks, Lady."

"If someone would be so kind as to show me the way to your sick bay..."

Lochnadd moved a fraction more quickly than Niall to steady her as she nearly crumpled to the deck. Cradling the oddly fragile form of such a charasmatic Lady in his arms until she steadied enough to stand without assistance, he gave her a command. The first he had issued to this once Human, Cheryii heroine since he had met her. "You will get some rest and medical attention yourself, M’Lady, before you attempt any healing of others at all. I forbid you so much as the use of a stim pack on anyone but yourself until you have rested. That is an order, and I will enforce it if I must confine you until you have recovered. Clear?"

"I will see to it," Niall grimly promised.

"See that you do, warrior," Lochnadd glared at the object of his concern for a moment before waving at the opening hatchway leading back to the companionway. "Now both of you, go rest, eat, mourn. Once we reach Caer Ban, there will be very little of any such for either of you. It has been my distinct honor to meet the both of you. I will not have either remaining Chaddr’im heir working themselves to death on my ship when it is not necessary. Gods be with you both."

"Do not forget our healers and engineers," Morgana persisted.

"If they are in any better condition than my own crew," Lochnadd anwsered with a short chuckle, "they will have more work than they dreamed possible."

 

* * * *

 

"Medical Officer Siodhan?" a light touch to his shoulder, along with the question momentarily drew his attention away from the youth he had been administering antibiotics to. His scowl cleared in first preplexity, then understanding as he recognized who had approached him, at least by reputation and from the rapt descriptions being passed among the Frostfire’s crew.

"Lady, Morgana," turning back to his patient for a moment after making that acknowledgment and judging the treatment to be adequate, he returned his attention to the weary looking young woman already being called ‘The Lady of Ban Loch’ by both her people and the ship’s crew members. "It is an honor. You are here to see your own wounded, I would imagine."

"Among other things," she responded with a faint smile that enlivened her lovely face with a promise of what a vital, engaging creature she would be when not burdened with grief and the responsibility for a large group of survivors from doomed Sylvan. "More to the point, I have come to join my people’s healers in assisting you and your staff."

"Would that be wise, Lady?" he questioned with a dubious expression that became one of concern. "You look tired, even worn. Perhaps after geting some rest..."

"Oh, I have rested, eaten, and taken time to collect my thoughts and strength, sir." she laughed with real humor, a sweet belling that brightened the makeshift hospital ward Siodhan had commandeered one of the empty fighter bays to make. "I assure you. Your Captain as much as told me I would be seeing the inside of your brig until rested if I didn’t do so before coming here."

"That is Lochnadd," the Medical Officer agreed with a laugh of his own. "He is a fine officer, who sometimes cares a bit too much for those under his command and in his care. I doubt he would have had you in the brig. More likely an officer’s cabin with a guard at the door."

"With orders to protect my privacy, no doubt," eyes twinkling, she turned to examine the lines of temporary cots and clusters of med equipment spread over the bay floor. "What may I do to assist you Chief Medical Officer? I am at your service."

"Circulate," was his answer. "That is all any of us are doing at the moment. What can be done, in most cases, has been, so we are in that curious calm period of watching our charges heal and gently guiding that healing in the right directions."

"Forgive my own impertinance, Chief Medical Officer Siodhan," placing a gentle hand on one of his aching shoulders, the hero of Ban Loch gave him a close, concerned examination. "But how long has it been since you have had a decent rest?"

"I’m all right," his too gruff reply, belied by the slight tremor in his voice, sounded hollow even to himself.

"No," Morgana softly responded without taking her hand from his shoulder. "you are not. I know I have no right here, but as a certified and practicing healer, I believe you need to rest yourself before your excellent staff ends up caring for you, too. Please go get some rest. I will help watch things, and your staff appears to have matters well in hand. We will call you if necessary."

She took a number of things with her after that voyage. The admiration and respect, bordering on worship much to her embarrassment, of the crew members and refugees being transported to the Cheryii homeworld was the first. Solid bases for friendships with the officers of Frostfire, and access to military conduits of information and support through those was another. A sense of purpose where there had really been none was the last and most important of those. It was clear to her, and those warriors she had been in contact with during the journey that it was time for her to put aside the perks of being the daughter of an old family and shoulder the responsibilities that rank entailed. To leave her healing arts behind for a time would be difficult, but by Cheryii tenets, a warrior was also a healer of sorts.

And what her newly found purpose, with an iron hard determination that surprised none but herself, needed was for The Lady of Ban Loch to take up the weapons she had abandoned when she became what she was. Take them up, and use them to carry a distasteful war to the Humans she had once been one of. In hopes of a larger, more extensive healing than any but the gods themselves would have dreamed possible.

Beyond all hope, and any but the wildest dreams, she dared to form a plan for the healing of an entire race.

 

* * * *

 

Ivanine was among the anxiously waiting crowd gathered at the shuttle landing pad when Morgana, holding Maeve, Niall, and Lelai disembarked with the last load of refugees from Sylvan who had been aboard Frostfire.

After the requisite hugs, kisses, and inevitable tears, and quick exchanges of small news, the family matriarch turned to see about twenty of the refugees from Ban Loch still milling at the ramp without evident purpose. The rest had been collected by relatives, clan representatives,

or had other places to go. These, it seemed were the truly bereft and the lost expressions on their faces confirmed they had nowhere to go. Most were from newly established clans that had not yet spread from Sylvan.

"All of us have lost much recently," Ivaine quietly spoke to them. "You still gathered here, I think, the most. If you wish, there is room for you among my own family holdings. This is not charity, Chaddr’im has lost an unthinkable number of members recently and the family requires an influx of new people to fill those gaping holes. That offer is open to all of you, and will remain so for as long as you live. Those who do not wish to join with our family, are still welcome in our home, and enterprises, until you find another place more amenable to your needs."

"I will take any of you," Morgana added with a genuine smile that became a grim experssion after a moment, "to help in a task I have sworn to do. Those not comfortable with my mother’s offer, but still wishing for a place with the family, may follow me. But I warn you, that path is not going to be an easy one. All of you heard what I said shortly after boarding Frostfire, and I fully intend to see that it comes to pass. There will be little thanks in it for any of us until it is over with, and likely not much in the way of true comforts, but we will be doing a thing worthy of the effort. The choice is yours, and I will think no less of anyone not taking it, but regardless, it is something I must and will do."

"So, the rumors that have trickled in from Sylvan are true," Ivaine quietly, sadly, told her only remaining daughter. "You did take up the arts of war again."

"Yes."

"Well, it is not something that comes as a great surprise," the elder Chaddr’im female sighed while giving the younger one an unhappy smile. "Your father always told me that was your destiny, that your heart and spirit were those of a true warrrior. He also made me promise not to hold you from that destiny when you decided it was upon you.

"It is not a happy decision, mother," glancing towards the small group of refugees Morgana let out a long sigh of weariness. "but the responsibilities of being in this family are far greater than I had first believed. Seeing that, I see no other choice. Besides, I have a rather unique view on fighting the Humans thanks to my origins. I may not be successful, but I have to try. For the sake of both races."

"We will discuss this later," Ivaine nodded before waving towards a waiting car. "I won’t try to dissuade you, but others will. You need to be prepared to answer them and their objections."

"What she did at Ban Loch is answer enough for anyone," Niall joined the conversation. "My sister was magnificent there, and most of the survivors from that town and it’s surroundings owe thier lives or freedom to her rapid, decisive, actions."

"A born warrior, she is," Lelai added hesitantly but with conviction. "Lady Ivaine, I can attest to that myself, and will to any who cast doubt on what she has done for all of us."

"Peace, all of you!" Ivaine held out both hands in a warding gesture that was not all in jest. "I have already said I will not contest her wishes, and will do my utmost to help my headstrong daughter in achieving her immediate plans. Now that must be sufficient for all of you. Come home and rest for at least awhile, then we will consider this some more."

 

* * * *

 

The Chaddr’im estate on the homeworld was even more extensive than the one on Sylvan had been, with outbuildings as large as the main house had been on Morgana’s former home. The refugees were housed in one of those, another was set aside for formal meetings and guests attending them, while the former human took one of the smaller ones as her own center of operations and home.

Seated in a wooden lounger on the marble patio overlooking a gradually sloping lawn that was poignantly similar to her own home on Sylvan, especially with the small lake at the foot of the slope, she was wondering if her choice of residences had been healthy. She had taken it deliberately because of the similarities; the memories of Currain and the children were very strong in the place and had initially caused her some pain. That had passed, with the flurry of activities she had initiated once through her debriefing and a few days to settle in while coming to terms with her losses. Associations she made with the surroundings were still bittersweet, and often painful, but had lost the sharp, cruel edge of fresh bereavement.

One of the major reasons for that squirmed in her lap, demanding attention with a little squeal and tugging on the waist of the simple, elegant green Ru-silk gown Morgana wore for the meetings to come that day. But for the moment, she was able to savor the slanting early morning sunlight and awakening scents of damp grass, the plethora of colorful blossoms in carefully tended flower beds, and cool breeze sweeping in off the water.

Along with her child. Holding the infant up, she laughed and gave the little one a kiss on the cheek. "Maeve, surely you aren’t hungry again already?"

The child gurgled while reaching out for one of her mother’s breasts with a wide eyed innocently greedy expression on her tiny face.

"All right, glutton, all right. Just a moment, sweet one." With a deftness she would have found unnerving several years before, and unthinkable before meeting Currain, she shrugged one shoulder of her gown down while balancing the child with the unoccupied arm, then held the demanding bundle of warm, squirming baby to the exposed breast. "Never satisfied, are you, little tigress? That attribute is going to make you a real handful in years to come, not that you aren’t that already."

"You are just reaching that conclusion?" a soft, amused voice questioned from the doorway behind the mother and child. "The little darling is already wearing her poor aunt out with her constant willfulness."

"Come join us, Lelai," Morgana invited the former maid. She had kept her promise and personally added the courageous young female to the Chaddr’im family rolls, effectively adopting her into the family as a fully entitled sister. A move both Niall and Ivaine heartily approved of. "Enjoy the quiet with us for a little while. Things are going to get a bit hectic later on today."

"Only a bit?" Lelai teased with a quiet laugh. "That would be a relief. You dear Lady, engender activity like a pool of honey attracts insects with a sweet tooth."

"Some of which," Morgana winced while giving an overly theatrical sigh, "I could really do without. Being a well placed ‘eligble’ female without a romantic interest can be a real trial at times. I had no idea that a poor widow would be so attractive to so many males."

"Ah, but you are a Chaddr’im widow, daughter of the great Sylvanus and the universally admired Ivaine, who is having her own difficulties in that regard, by the way," Lelai chuckled deep in her throat, something that the discreet suitors for the family women had found irresistably sexy. "Not to mention that you are a beauty by any standards, and come with a mystique wrapped in fame."

"More like notoriety," with a derisive snort, Morgana shifted Maeve to her other breast as deftly as she had gotten the first one exposed for the greedy little mouth. Which left both breasts exposed to the cool morning air. "I am a curiosity, a converted Human who has mated as a Cheryii, and even fought against my former people."

"Never a curiosity, dear sister," Lelai fiercly contended. "More like a mythical figure of awe, with all that you have endured and accomplished. If I were male, I would be tempted to try joining the family in a way other than adoption, too."

"Then I thank the gods that you aren’t a male," laughing as she placed the sated infant in a cradle and covered her against the slight morning chill before pulling her own clothing back into place, then fastidiously making certain everything was properly in place, Morgana laid a gentle hand on Lelai’s. "because I think I’d scream if one more young idiot, no matter how well intentioned, offered to ‘help me through my difficult time’, or maybe I’d be tempted to commit murder."

"It would be self defense," Lelai returned the touch with another chuckle. "Or at least a case of temporary insanity. Caused by constant badgering by randy males who would backpedal very quickly had any of them seen you in action as I have."

"If several in particular keep it up," the object of so much male attention grumbled in dark amusement, "they just might have that opportunity."

"Might be worth seeing," Lelai laughed at the picture of several very shocked scions of old Cheryii Families sitting on their rumps after pushing her adoptive sister too far. "and would serve some of them right. They aren’t even giving you a proper mourning period."

"I’ll be mourning for a long time to come, little sister," the answer held a note of strained sorrow, but was replaced with that bell-like laugh that was becoming one of Morgana’s trademarks. "But all these suitors are actually the result of pressure from higher up in the families. In the more ‘civilized’ sections of the realm, highly placed females do not put aside their pampered positions for the rough life of a warrior. In the words of one matriarch I spoke with last week, ‘It simply isn’t done, dear. Get yourself another compatible male and start produsing more Chaddr’m heirs.’ As if any of these home world dandies would appeal to me after my beloved Currain."

"Truly, some of them aren’t so bad," Lelai returned with a wicked grin. "I’ve been fending some of the ‘rougher’ sorts off myself. Fortunately, a certain weapons officer we both have reason to be fond of is running far ahead of any others, and I don’t hesitate to let them know that."

"Good for Herevin," Morgana approved, "Are we going to have an addition to the family soon?"

"Once I gentle him down to the idea," Lelai smirked. "I think I’ll let him chase me a little longer before throwing out my net, though."

"All it would take is one beckoning finger, dear." with a wistful expression of remembrance, the lithe blonde beauty lightly added, "I could probably find you a Terran apple, or whatever exotic fruit your intended likes."

"No need, but thanks for the thought." Lelai grinned. "I do believe my darling Herevin is very snugly entangled in the web I already have in place, and his struggles are nothing more than token resistance."

"I wish both of you all the happiness you can find." Morgana smiled as she arose from the comfortable seat with visible reluctance. "But now I need to prepare for yet another trying day. Mother has managed to ram my commission through the council, now I must convince The College of Warriors that I am fit to carry it."

"Just be yourself," Lelai shrugged without a sign of worry. "and even the most stiff necked elder will see that you are more than simply ‘fit’ for the commision."

"Oh, I’ve already lit a few fires under some of them," with a small chuckle, the one time reluctant to fight heroine of Ban Loch waved vaguely towards the administration quarter of the spread out city that was the center of Cheryii culture and government. "Lochnadd and his officers, Merevan, and others who were on Sylvan are lobbying on my behalf as well. Very vocally, I might add. It is almost embarrassing the way they so fiercly defend my right to lead warriors."

"That is because you have proven yourself to them, Lady," a male voice replied. Turning to see a grinning Herevin leaning against the doorframe as if he already lived in the house, Morgana rolled her eyes then shrugged in mock surrender. "And to me. I have also put in my poor best of recommendations in your behalf. Everyone aboard Frostfire has, unanimously, I am proud to say."

"Pass my thanks, and equally high regards for all of them," Morgana gave him a quick peck on the cheek with a sisterly hug. "I truly appreciate all of you."

"And I’ll thank you to not distract my own personal weapons officer from the duty he has come to perform this morning," Lelai moved gracefully to the young officer’s side, laying a gently possessive hand on one of his arms. "I’ve already got first call on this one. Find your own, big sister."

"You are both very -- uhhmm -- distracting, Ladies," Herevin gallantly offered as his free arm snaked around Lelai’s waist and pulled her to him. "But I’m snared already, and only awaiting the final stroke my huntress is lpreparing to deliver. In quivering, half fearful, half amazed joy."

"Besotted, the both of you," Morgana hugged the Pair then glanced to the now sleeping infant. "Just don’t set little Maeve on that path yet. She has to grow a bit first."

"Oh, I think we can manage not to do that," Lelai grinned in her love’s arms.

"She will be safe with us," Herevin added seriously.

"I know," kneeling beside the cradle to give the sleeping infant a light kiss, the young mother looked up at the sky with an almost bruised expression. "It pains me a great deal to leave her behind, but I have no choice. She can’t accompany me where I must go."

"You could stay, for a while," Lelai offered, "until she has grown a bit."

"No, I can’t." Drawing in a ragged breath, the nascent nemisis of the New Terran Federation let it out in a shaking, shuddering sigh that sounded more like a sob. "There are things -- terrible things -- that must be done. And I have to do them. Fate can be cruel, but it is also unavoidable. There is no one else with the incentive I have to do what must be done, even if some do share my perspective. I have to go. And I have to go soon or it will be too late."

"You are not responsible for what Humanity is doing, or has done in the past, dear," Lelai gently but forcfully answered.

"No, not completely," aggrieved, Morgana gave her new sister a weak attempt at a smile. "But if I fail to do what I know is possible, I will be responsible, at least in part, for seeing our people under the NTF’s harsh yoke. That is something that doesn’t bear thinking about, believe me."

 

* * * *

 

Standing alone, regally, intransigent, and defiant, before the lords of the Cheryii Military High Command, Morgana returned each regard with a steady gaze that would accept no denial. Her indomnitable, warrior’s spirit and determined stance would inspire more than one work of art, and song in the future. None she faced so determinedly would ever forget that day, even those who still oposed her comission as a commander of warriors -- a group greatly in the minority by that time, but still powerful enough to block her self declared destiny.

"You persist in the belief that you are actually capable of such a thing?" Lord Sqeulaiche of Clan Donn, one who opposed her, questioned almost wearily.

"The New Terran Federation can be beaten," she answered with a confidence that may have seemed misplaced to those who didn’t know her, or discounted the tales of her actions on Sylvan. "Either give me your leave to prove it... Or prepare to be shown the way whether you approve or not. For I will not turn away from this. I can not do so."

"We understand your anger, Lady." Lord Riagan of Clan Ruadhan put in with real sympathy in his voice. "Along with your desire for vengence, but can you be so certain this is not grief speaking in place of sense?"

"I am," she returned evenly. "I was a warrior before I was Cheryii, one of the Humans who are now our greatest enemy and potentially our strongest ally. Give me the resources to do what I plan, and the NTF will fall, I promise you. Give me your permission to do what I must to achieve this thing and you will never have a more dedicated commander. Refuse me and I will find a means to do so without your sanction."

"You would risk the disgrace of your entire family line for this?" Donn probed with something like distasteful wonder in his voice. "You would go renegade to see this thing done? Is your belief, your faith so strong that you would chance all that? And have the unmitigated defiance to tell this body that to our faces, in our own hall?"

"I would," came the quiet response, "and I believe I have already shown that ‘unmitigated defiance’ you speak of. Give me your leave to do this thing, Lords, and you will have a weapon aimed at the heart of the NTF like you never dreamed of, I swear it on my Family name and reputation."

The Lord of Donn probed a cheek with his tongue while glancing at his compatriots. Most of those avoided his looks, or gave small shrugs. Others nodded in open admiration of the young female standing so firmly before them.

"Never let it be said," Donn let out a mirthless chuckle, "that Donn refused such an eloquent presentation simply because it was made by a female who would be better suited to expanding the depleted ranks of the Chaddr’im. Rather, let it be remembered that Donn not only admired the courage of such a one, to stand and demand from this body what she feels is necessary, but that Donn can see no way to stop her from doing as she wishes.

Very well, you headstrong, stubborn, remarkable young warrior." Donn rose to give her a formal bow. "You have proven your point, to me at least. I say we vote, then let you get on with whatever you have planned. I for one would much rather know what you are up to, than have to be guessing. Gods be with you, M’Lady, and grant you success."

The vote was an anticlimax, a formality only. Morgana had official backing and permission to raise the kind of force she had envisioned as the possible salvation of two races.

 

* * * *

 

Once her command status had become official, with the fervent approval of High Command, volunteers for the force she planned became a problem, though not in the way she had feared. Her personal communications links were flooded with requests to be included, as were some of the Family links. Captain Lochnadd paid a visit to the harried, and bemused commander several days after her meeting with the Lords. Morgana greeted him like a long lost brother.

"Lochnadd!" rising from behind a desk piled so high with messages that it looked more like a mountain of flimsy forms, she hurried around to give the fellow a quick hug then pulled back to look him over. "You’re looking well."

"Shore leave does that for a sailor," he grinned, "at least it does after the first few days."

"I’m glad. How is Frostfire?"

"Refitted, repaired, and ready to tangle with the enemy again," Lochnadd replied. "We haven’t lacked for volunteers to fill the gaps in crew, which seems to be a major problem for you just now. Volunteers, I mean."

"Very Astute," Morgana groaned. "If a little of ‘flogging an already dead animal’ to get it to move faster.

I am gratified, but apalled at the numbers willing to put their lives in my hands," she ruefully added with a wave at the overburdened desk. "Those are just officers. The ranks are stored in another room. A whole room."

"It isn’t often that a proven commander puts out a call for volunteers to fill a new fighting force," Lochnadd shrugged. "It would be an opportunity many would find very tempting, along with a chance to rise in the ranks more quickly. But you are very well thought of among the Warriors, Lady."

"Very humbling, and exhilarating," she answered, " thanks to you and others like you, I think."

"I have spread the story of your defense of Ban Loch, and your good sense in accepting that Human officer’s truce when it was the best decision to make." the captain agreed.

"Warriors like to know that their commanders aren’t entirely suicidal, you know."

"That has become very evident over the past few days," with a wry grin, she tilted her head towards the desk. "Overwhelming is a word that comes to mind as well."

"I suppose it is," Lochnadd laughed with genuine amusement at her harried expression whenever the pile of correspondence was mentioned. "What you need is a staff to handle these things."

"Exactly why I am risking an avalanche on that desk," Morgana snorted. "I’m trying to set one up."

"Hmm," thoughtfully stroking his chin, the Fleet Captain gave her a long look with one raised eyebrow. "I might just be able to solve that dilemma for you. If, that is, you can stand getting one more volunteer?"

Perking up instantly, she gave him a look through narrowed eyes. "Did you just say what I think you did? Never mind, I know you did. I am honored beyond words, and that is the absolute gods truth, Lochnadd. Did you mean it?"

"I never joke about military administration," he responded with a gleam in his eye that belied the statement. "since it is often capable of being one without any outside asistance."

"Captain Lochnadd," Morgana laughed with evident glee. "If you weren’t already happily paired with a mate, I would make a play for you right here and now. Please get someone in here to clear this mess off my desk. Could you do that?"

"Right away, Commander," he replied, then shook his head. "By the way, if I weren’t already happily paired off, the play would succeed. Life around you would never be dull."

"That it wouldn’t,"

"I’ll get my staff, who have also volunteered, to sorting through these and getting you a competent administrative staff in place. With your permission?"

"Haul this stuff out in a wheelbarrow if you like. Just get it off my desk. Please."

"Consider it done, M’Lady."

"You can set up in the large study off the entry hall, if that will do."

"It will do very well. I’ll get back to you in a few hours. Go get some rest, or get drunk, or swim in that inviting lake naked. Whatever it takes to relax. We’re going to be very busy for the next few weeks. Take a break now, that comes from Chief Medical Officer Siodhan, by the way, who also says he knows how you push until you have no more to give. He’s threatened to relieve you of duty for a few days recovery time if you don’t start relaxing."

"He would do that, too," with a gesture towards the back of the house, she finished. "I’ll be lounging on the back patio or playing with my daughter there. Thank you."

 

* * * *

 

"Your Captain Lochnadd has been very busy over the past weeks," Niall gave the heated caf an appreciative sip while giving his sister’s look of distaste an amused glance.

"Oh, he’s managed to keep me quite busy, as well," taking a delicate sip of the tea she now fovored over the bitter black caf, Morgana let out a contented little laugh, "with going over the selections he and my staff have made for positions in my unit. And he is not my captain."

"Huh," her brother disagreed, "All those volunteers, male or female, are yours, M’Lady sister. Without reservation. Many of them were on Sylvan, and those who weren’t are in simple awe of the way you faced down the Lords at High Command."

"I was too frightened to move, let alone shiver in that meeting," she snorted derisively. "The bravest thing I did there was to simply walk in."

"Have it your way," the glitter of mischief in his eyes plainly said she hadn’t heard the last of that out of him. "But Captain Lochnadd has been quite busy with his ship’s refit and playing with our Ghost. Which he waxed profanely poetic over after running her through the final trials."

"What did the High Command think?"

"Nearly as impressed with her as they had been with you, dearest sister." Niall replied with pride in both the new ship type the Chaddr’im shipyards had developed and his firebrand sister.

We are working out a few kinks in the tech that showed up in realtime trials and going into immediate production. You should have at least five of them by the time you are ready to go, along with four Banshee class strike cruisers equipped with the new tech."

"That is good news," she congratulated her brother, who had taken on the full responsibilities of the highest ranking Chaddr’im male with a verve that was surprising considering his original bent.

"Rhys would have been both amazed and proud of his brother. I know that I am."

"My thanks," his expression briefly darkened at mention of his dead twin, then lightened again. "Though I think he would have been more shocked than amazed. As it is, I tryly regret not being able to go with you."

"We each have our responsibilities, Niall. Your’s is likely the more important in the long run. Very few of us ever so much as suspected the organizational and technical genuis that lurked under your brashness."

"Just be careful out there, little sister," he grew serious again. "Family disgrace I might be able to live with, losing you, too, I could not."

"Strange," she commented half jokingly, "I feel the same way towards you. I would not grieve you unnecessarily, especially not since we have also become friends."

"Please do your best not to," his plea was half joking, but also serious. "Will you be here for the Joining?"

"Since Herevin is going to be one of my ship officers, and Lelai is my chosen sister," Morgana replied with an evil little glint in her eyes, "I would never be cruel enough to miss it, or make Herevin do so. Besides, you may take our new sister’s wrath lightly, like the fool of a male you are, but I do not."

"So I’ve gone from brother and friend to a fool of a male, have I?" Niall casually questioned while eyeing the lake shore not a hundred yards distant. "I’m still big enough, and good enough, to throw you in the lake, you know."

"Try it,"

"All right."

"Niall!"

"Get ready for a dousing, sister dear."

"I swear you’ll come in with me!"

So long as you get soaked, I’ll risk it."

"Niall! I’m warning..." SPLASH

What had started as a sedate meeting between two Family elders degenerated into a laughing, screaming, wrestling match involving wet clothing, dunkings, and a lot of splashing accompanied by spluttering. It should be pointed out that they were elders in name and position, but still young enough to remain undecorously rambunctious.

Both household and military staffs pointedly avoided watching more than absolutely necessary to see that the horseplay didn’t go too far and result in real injury to either participant. Some thought it more necessary than others. Among the latter, painfully straight faced, Lelai and Herevan waited patiently with towels for the dripping, laughing siblings once they finally tired of the game and returned to create small puddles of muddy water on the usually immaculate marbled patio where they stood drying off.

 

Chapter 8

THE SYLVAN IRREGULARS

"This unit," Morgana addressed the gathered command staff of her still unnamed combat group with her usual, unconcious charisma. "Is going to be something different than any of you have served in before. We will work with the intelligence branches at times, with regular forces at others. That means we will be involved in both covert and overt operations as a precision, combined strike force made up of elements from all branches of the military. If any of you are unable to deal with that, can’t put aside clan disagreements, or service rivalries, you may as well leave right now. I, and my immediate command staff, will not tolerate internicine rivalries among this group."

There were a few murmurs at that, and uneasy sidelong glances, but none chose to leave, which pleased her a great deal. After a few moments of adjusting to the first rule she had laid down, the gathering settled back to give their barely tried, but promising commander their full attention.

"Good, I see that Squadron Commander Lochnadd and his staff chose well when they picked all of you." Giving them a respectful gesture of welcome, and a nod, Morgana continued as if the ultimatum just delivered had never happened. We have a a few nasty surprises ready for the NTF, among them a new ship design, modifications to the specs of some Banshee Class Strike Cruisers, and lighter, more supple battle armor.

Given the nature of missions we are going to undertake," she continued with a grim note in her voice, "I won’t try deluding any of you into believing that this will be an easy service; it will, in fact, very likely be the most dangerous undertaking most of us have ever entered into. We will be in places and situations where reinforcement or even rescue will only be self destructive fantasies. If we fail to function as one smoothly operating organism we will not get out of the things we get into and this battle group will have a regrettably brief history.

We will function as envisioned, I am sure of that with the quality of personnel I have reviewed at length with Squadron commander Lochnadd and many others. Every one of you from the most experienced to the brand new, are uniquely suited to the style of combat I intend to employ. The Squadron Commander, effectively my second in command, and Chief Weapons Officer Herevin, will fill you and your individual units in on the new ships, armor, and weapons we will be utilizing as the need comes up. Some of you will be immersed immediately, others will be trained a bit later, but everyone will know what is pertinent to their own functions in the battle group.

As for the training," making a wry face that drew a few uncomfortable laughs from her audience, their commander shrugged. "If your people complain, tell them that all of us are going through the same things. And I do mean ALL. That includes myself and the officers seated up here behind me. I will be speaking individually with each one of you within the next few days, as time permits. Until then, I’ll turn this briefing over to the Squadron Commander and Chief Weapons officer. They will distribute the information that each of you will require for your own people and get things moving."

Pausing long enough to give each of the thirty-odd officers a quick looking over from her vantage, she nodded in satisfaction and moved off the stage with the unconsciously regal grace that would become her foremost personal physical trademark.

Herevin gave her a discrete high sign, and even Lochnadd winked and offered an encouraging grin as she left the gathering of her officers.

 

* * * *

 

"Ahhh! You found it," Morgana said through tightly clenched teeth. "Yikes!"

"You’ve pulled a muscle in your rib cage," Siodhan told her matter of factly. "That’s what you get for yanking a grown male in full combat armor over a rail and on top of you. You’re lucky nothing’s broken."

"I’ll take that as ‘You’re going to be okay you damned little idiot.’ and go get something to ease the pain."

"You came to the right place for that," the senior Medical Officer grunted, then chuckled as his patient winced again but refrained from crying out -- barely, as he probed another part of her back with practiced fingers. "A little heat, along with some nice sonic and electrical stimulation and I’ll have you back out there trying to hurt yourself again in no time at all."

"That’s what I like about you, Siodhan," she grumbled, "your bedside manner is sooo wonderful. Ow!"

"This is your own fault, you know." the doctor and healer pointed out with evident satisfaction in being right. "Insisting that everyone go through the same training regimen, including yourself."

"Does every Medical Officer in the universe take such sadistic pleasure in being right?" she questioned plaintively. "While being so damned pleased with themselves over it?"

"Part of our training, Lady," he answered with a straight face. "I believe it must be a personality trait all good Medics have."

"Along with being closet torturers," Morgana laughed, then winced as another jolt of pain shot through her back and left side. "Oh, gods, don’t make me laugh right now."

"Hold very still for the good doctor, and I swear that I won’t make another joke for at least thrity seconds."

"You’re all heart, Siodhan," she groused, then sighed as the warmth and tingling of the treatment began to loosen her abused muscles. "Ooooh, that’s wonderful. I think I’ll keep you around after all."

"Glad to hear it," Siodhan made a few adjustments to the output of the pad wrapped around his commanders back, sides, and chest. "You need someone competent and halfway sane around to remind you that you aren’t some big, strong, Human male who can casually throw full grown males around like confetti. By the way, the looks on that soldier’s face, and on old Donn’s, when you pulled that stunt, were both far beyond any price. I do hope that move got into the vid."

"Oh, I’m sure it did," she said, sighing as her back quit spasming with the least little movement. "My future brother-in-law was recording the exercise."

 

* * * *

 

"Yes, Merevan?" looking up from yet another intricately detailed performance report on the varied units of her command following the successful exercise with a grateful sigh, Morgana gave the captain a tired smile while gesturing towards the screen recessed into her desk. "If it gets me away from this, you’ve made a friend for life."

"Lady," the captain flashed a quick grin. "I would be honored. But you’d better hear what I’m disturbing you for before making any such promises so rashly."

"What is it?" she questioned, then chuckled. "I don’t really think it could be anything that would make me regret leaving this for awhile."

"A pair of Intelligence types wearing navy uniforms are waiting in the outer office," he waved to the door behind him, "and have requested a meeting with you."

"Is that so?" carefully clearing her screen then bringing up a view of the outer office where Ceilis, another refugee from Sylvan had taken on the task of being her secretary and general buffer against the vagaries of the outside world was cooly regarding a male and female wearing uniforms of naval offficers seated comfortably in loungers. "Did they tell either of you what they wanted?"

"No." Merevan shrugged as he replied with ‘so what?’ expression on his face. "Only that they wished to discuss The Irregulars’ progress to date."

"I see," Giving the pair on the screen another long look, she nodded thoughtfully while pressing the intercom. "Have a seat, Merevan. Ceilis."

"Yes Lady?" the deceptively sweet voice of the petite and beautiful young female responded.

"Send them in."

"As you wish, M’Lady."

The pair entered the office without the least show of nervousness, or uncertainty. The female officer spoke for them in smooth, diplomat’s voice. "Lady Morgana, Captain Merevan, it is my great pleasure to give you the most cordial of greetings from The Directorate of External Affairs."

"Be good enough to convey my own greetings, and thanks, to The Directorate," Morgana responded with a cautious smile. The Directorate was a combined forces intelligence group who oversaw, and often performed operations more than a shade into the black side of military convention, and law. "To what do we owe this visit, if it isn’t impolite to ask immmediately?"

"I told you, Aeovel," The male gave his companion a knowing little smile then favored Morgana with a respectful look before bowing formally. "The Lady is not one to sit on niceties when there is work to be done. Forgive my compatriot’s lack of formal manners, Lady, she is new to us, as you once were, and is still coming to grips with the polite forms of personal interactions among the Clans. I am Cein Fionnbhar of Clan Coille, and my companion is Aeovel of the same Clan. We have been requested by our superior officers in The Directorate to approach you with an extremely delicate matter, especially among the survivors of Sylvan."

"Ah, and that would be?" Ceilis entered the room with her usual unobtrusive grace bearing a tray of refreshments she offered to both guests then to her commanding officer and her attache. Both guests noted the secretary’s ease of movement and obvious fitness with slight nods of approval while smiling their thanks.

"First," Cein began apologetically while taking an appreciative sip of the Gerthnai Red, a reasonably expensive wine, and one favored by many of the military Clans when formally socializing. "I must ask you a question."

"Ask," Morgana gave Merevan a quick, half humorous glance as she answered. Spooks would be spooks not matter what people or governing entity they professed to serve.

"We have been watching your rather unique fighting unit take shape with a great deal of interest. Our question is simply this. Are you ready for action? And if not, do you have an estimate of when that will be?"

"Merevan?" deferring to the Captain gave her a chance to estimate something else. Precisely, just how much these two actually knew about them.

"Lady, Captain Cein, Warrior Aeovel," Merevan nodded with a shadow of a smile on his scarred face. "We are as ready, training and equipment wise as any untried combat unit has ever been. There are sure to be a few small miscommunications in the begining, but as a whole, I would rate our state of readiness as very high."

Neither guest appeared at all surprised. Both appeared rather pleased, in fact as Cein nodded. "Good. Now, have you ever heard of a place named McGary Station?"

"Yes. The Old Terran Exploration vessel, McGary took heavy damage from a freak ion storm while orbiting an inhospitable and very lonely speck of atmosphereless rock so far off the usual travel lanes that salvage was deemed useless. But a rescue ship sent to recover the crew discovered that the speck of rock they named McGary Point was a nexus jump point that once charted, could shorten many journies significantly. So, a station was built orbiting McGary Point, and has been maintained by the NTF as jump off point for shipping of the sort that the general populace might actually get nervous about. Is that about it?"

"Accurate to a degree I find most encouraging," Cein answered, then passed a small sealed packet to Mereven, who examined it, slit the seal, and set the memory sphere it contained into the information system beside Morgana’s desk. "It is precisely one of those ‘questionable’ shipments that we are interested in, and I believe you and many in your unit will agree."

The room fell silent as the large screen on the wall began displaying what the sphere contained. The silence was disturbed by an occasional hushed curse from Merevan and quietly angry hissed breath from Morgana.

What they were seeing was a small group of Cheryii prisoners, of varying ages and both sexes, working the station docks while other groups were led under heavy guard from ship ramps into the station’s interior.

"I was a fast-courier pilot," Aoevel spoke almost deferentially into the heavy silence as all four watched the scenes unfold on the screen. "and saw much of this with my own eyes. Those prisoners are from Sylvan."

"Did you speak to any of them?" Morgana questioned quietly.

"Yes, though I didn’t take these shots. They came from security cameras that I was able to tap into. I won’t bore you with details, but what you are seeing here is accurate and less than seven days old."

"I might add," Cein gave his companion a wry, but sympathetic look, "That I lost one of my best placed Human agents getting this information. The Lieutenant’s rendevous with one of our covert operating vessels was blown, and she nearly died before a healer could begin the conversion process to save her life, if not her Human personna."

"For this," Morgana breathed in respect while favoring the young female with a sympathetic expression, "Any rudness would be forgiven. Also, would you permit me to place your name on the rolls of those honored by my family, Aeovel?."

"I, I am overwhelmed, Lady," the young woman responded. "May I ask why?"

"Other than your courage in obtaining and delivering this information?" the elder changeling asked gently. At a nod from the other, she froze a specific frame of the vid and pointed out a red haired Cheryii female accompanied by an NTF regular forces officer. "That is my sister."

Seeing the worn, shocked look in the Lady’s eyes, Cein spoke softly. "The mission profile is further along, M’Lady. I don’t need to emphasize the need for rapid deployment, or secrecy until the op is completed."

"No, you don’t," Morgana responded, her eyes still fixed on the image on the screen. "We are at The Directorate’s disposal, Captain."

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

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© 2001 by Maggie Finson. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.