Aboard the Dire Wolf
Rasalhague
9th December 3050
Since Margaidh had first struggled to her feet on her birthday, she had practised hard and two weeks later she took her first faltering steps on crutches. It wasn't much but it was progress, and for the first time since her accident, she began to have real hope for her chances of getting back into a Mech. But she still had only limited feeling and movement in her legs, and she knew that the road ahead was still a long and rough one.
After four days on the Dire Wolf, Margaidh had almost settled into what would be her home until they reached Strana Mechty. She was astounded at the size of the place, and even though as a bondsman many parts of the ship were out of bounds, she doubted she would be able to see it all before they arrived. But since she had little else to do, she spent most of her time exploring those parts where she was permitted, and it was not long before she knew her way around as well as if she'd been there for months.
"I still can't get over how huge this place is," Kristen said to her, as she pushed Margaidh's wheelchair slowly along the corridor. The wheelchair was empty, and Margaidh was walking with much difficulty alongside on her crutches.
Right now it feels like it's a hundred kliks long, thought Margaidh to herself, stopping for her fifth rest in ten minutes. "I've had enough," she said, reaching gratefully for the chair. She sat down heavily, passed her crutches to Kristen and rubbed hard at her aching arms.
"I have to go back now. I'm due back on duty." Kristen said. "I'll take these things back to our room." She paused. "Are you sure you'll be okay on your own?"
"I'm sure. I'll see you later."
Kristen nodded and bent to give Margaidh a friendly kiss, then she jogged off down the corridor with the crutches over her shoulder, leaving Margaidh smiling to herself. It was hard to believe that when they first met Kristen had tried to kill her. I'm glad you're here, Kris. And she wheeled around and headed off down a corridor she had not yet explored.
Even given that she'd not seen Michael in five months, Margaidh recognised him immediately. She saw him from behind, walking with purpose down the corridor with his snake-like braid swinging between his shoulderblades. Her heart suddenly racing, she increased her pace to catch up with him, and called out his name.
Recognising her voice, Michael turned round with a smile, but when his gaze fell upon the wheelchair, his smile vanished and he turned pale. "Blood of Kerensky!" he hissed under his breath. "What happened to you?"
"It's a long story," Margaidh said with a grin. "But I think you need to be sitting down before I start."
They found a quiet place to sit in a small and otherwise empty canteen, and Margaidh told her story. Michael listened in stunned silence, holding her hands tightly the whole time. When she finished, he said nothing but just looked at her, and Margaidh thought she could see tears in his blue-grey eyes.
"I wish I could have been there for you," he said at length, in a quiet and shaky voice.
Margaidh smiled reassuringly at him. "Please try not to worry," she said. "I'm doing okay. It may be slow, but I will get there in the end."
"You are still determined to become a Mechwarrior?"
"Of course I am," she replied. "And I will be, one day."
Michael forced a faint smile, but Margaidh could sense he was not so optimistic. For a moment she wondered whether she was setting her sights too high; that she would not make it as a Mechwarrior. I must not think like that, she told herself. I have to believe I can do it. Anything less I could not live with.
Aboard the Dire Wolf
12th December 3050
Margaidh idly coiled the braid around her fingers as she lay on her bunk with her head on Michael's broad shoulder. She felt relaxed and comfortable, warm from the scotch she had drunk, and from their gentle lovemaking. His eyes were closed but he was not asleep; she could feel his hands gently stroking her bare skin, his fingers passing back and forth across her shoulders and down her spine. When they reached halfway, Margaidh gave an involuntary shudder.
"I am sorry." He hastily drew his hand away. "Did I hurt you?"
"No. It just felt a little strange. Now I'm starting to get a little feeling back, it feels ticklish." She smiled, and kissed him. "Actually, I was enjoying it."
Michael resumed stroking her back, and it felt comforting enough that she started to drift off to sleep. She was awoken by the sound of someone coming into the room, and she looked up, startled.
Kristen had stopped in the doorway, her jaw dropped and a look of horror crossed her face. Then she turned around and slammed the door shut. Margaidh heard Kristen's frustrated scream from the other side of the door, and a metallic clunk as she kicked it, then her footsteps disappeared down the corridor at a run.
Margaidh groaned, and started to pull on her overalls as fast as she could.
"What are you doing?" Michael asked, confused.
"I have to catch up with Kristen. Help me with my boots, hurry."
Michael fetched her boots. "I do not understand," he said. "Why was she so upset?"
"She is jealous. She thought she had me all to herself." Margaidh swore under her breath as she hauled herself into the wheelchair. "I think you had better go back to your own room, Michael."
"I would rather go with you."
"If Kristen catches sight of you again, she'll go berserk." Margaidh blew him a kiss. "I will see you later."
For almost an hour, Margaidh searched the vast ship, trying to think of where Kristen might have gone. She found her at last, in the Mech bays, sitting on the floor leaning against a gantry ladder, hugging her knees. Margaidh could hear her crying quietly.
"Kristen? Are you alright?"
Kristen turned round, her tear-stained face suddenly contorted with rage. "Of course I'm not alright! But it's obvious you are. Go back to your lover-boy, just leave me alone!"
"Kris, please!" Margaidh reached for Kristen's hand but she snatched it away.
"I thought I meant something to you, Margaidh." Kristen glared at her. "I thought we had something special together. What is it? Fed up with being a dyke?"
Tears sprang to Margaidh's eyes, and she shook her head. "I don't even know what I am anymore. All I know is that I love you, and I love Michael, and I can't choose between you." She leaned forward and touched Kristen on the arm. She half expected Kristen to pull away again, but she didn't. "I'm sorry, Kris."
Kristen narrowed her red-rimmed eyes at Margaidh. "What about us, Mags?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Margaidh sighed, and squeezed Kristen's hand. "I don't know, Kris. But I do know that I couldn't bear to lose you."
Kristen stood up and leaned on the ladder. "You should have thought about that before you let Michael into your bed." Then Kristen turned, and climbed up the ladder, knowing that Margaidh would not be able to follow her.
Margaidh poured herself a glass of scotch, offered one to Michael, and she stared at the amber liquid a while before swallowing it all in one go. The warmth of it sliding down her throat seemed to melt away her anger.
"I still do not understand," Michael complained, sitting cross-legged on his bunk and frowning at Margaidh. "The sexual habits of the Inner Sphere are almost incomprehensible. How can Kristen be so selfish that she will not allow you to share sexual relations with anyone else?"
Margaidh sighed, and rubbed her temples. "We do things differently, that is all," she said. "As far as Kristen is concerned, I should not have slept with you. And because I did, that makes me a dishonest, two-faced slut. She has every right to be upset."
"Does it upset you that I sleep with my sibkin?"
Margaidh shook her head. "No, Michael. I do not mind, because I know that is the way you people do things. But if I found out that Kristen had been sleeping with someone else, then I think I would be upset."
"Is that what it means to be jealous?"
Margaidh nodded.
"What will you do then?"
"I am not sure. If I don't stop seeing you, then I will lose her. But I cannot bear to lose either of you. You are both my friends." She looked at Michael, and was surprised to see that he was smiling. "What? Is something funny?"
"Neg. But I have just noticed that in the five months since I last saw you, you have become so much like us." He paused. "Stay with me tonight, Margaidh. Let Kristen cool down, and make your peace with her tomorrow."
Margaidh smiled at Michael, and wheeled herself closer, so she could hug him. "Thankyou, Michael," she whispered. "You are a real friend."
Aboard the Dire-Wolf
13 December 3050
"Did you stay with Michael last night?" Kristen asked, without looking towards Margaidh.
"Yes," Margaidh replied. "I wanted to avoid another row. I thought you might prefer to be alone." She wheeled into the room, reached for her crutches and picked them up. "I wish you could understand, Kris. I don't want to lose you."
"So why don't you just tell Michael you won't see him again?"
"Because he's my friend, dammit!" Margaidh snapped, banging the crutches on the floor for emphasis. "He's my friend, and so are you, and I refuse to let either one of you go."
"Don't you understand, Mags? I don't want to share you with anyone else." She looked hard at Margaidh, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. "God, you remind me of Polly. So damned stubborn."
Leaning heavily on the crutches, Margaidh hauled herself out of the wheelchair and sat on the bunk. She patted the mattress, wordlessly asking Kristen to sit beside her. Kristen hesitated, then did so, and she let Margaidh embrace her.
"I wish I didn't have to share you," Kristen said quietly.
"It doesn't mean I love you less."
"You know something, Mags?"
"What?"
Kristen laughed. "You're getting just like them."
Aboard the Dire Wolf
12 January 3051
Margaidh lay on her back on the couch in sick bay, gritting her teeth with concentration as she lifted first one leg and then the other, while Doctor Jordan and his colleague nodded their approval. She was still frustrated by the apparent slowness of the progress she was making, but as long as Jordan was satisfied, Margaidh figured she was on the right track and that, at least, was some comfort.
"We will return later, Margaidh. Keep practising for ten minutes or so." The two doctors turned and headed off towards their private office, leaving Margaidh alone. Hmm. If he says ten, it'll probably be twenty.
Margaidh's concentration was interrupted by the sound of someone coming into the sickbay, and she stopped her exercises to look at him. He was young, and somehow Margaidh thought he seemed familiar, though she couldn't remember where she'd seen him before. He had jet black hair and green eyes, and wore a standard clan issue grey jumpsuit, and from the way his jaw was set, it was clear he was in pain.
The young man was leaning heavily on the shoulder of an attractive woman dressed in a fancy white leather jumpsuit. Despite her white hair, Margaidh decided she was probably not much older than herself. She helped him up onto another couch and then kissed him.
"You don't have to make so much fuss, Ranna," the young man said, with little regard for formality of speech. "It's only a cut."
"Vlad would have cut your throat if you had given him the chance," the white-haired woman replied.
"Then I guess I'm lucky he missed," he said, peeling at a blood-encrusted slash in the leg of his jumpsuit.
"I will come back for you later, Phelan," Ranna said. She kissed him again and as soon as she was gone, Phelan lay back on his elbows and gave a groan. Evidently to Margaidh, the cut on his leg hurt more than he was letting on.
Margaidh sat up on the couch and looked at him, frowning. I've seen him before… Phelan… Phelan… Yes, that's it!
"Excuse me," she said. "Aren't you Phelan Kell?"
Phelan sat up with a jerk, not realising there had been someone else in the room. "Um, yes. Well, I was. I'm Phelan Wolf now, I just got adopted into the Clan."
He grinned, and although Margaidh did not know what he meant, she guessed it was a good thing. "Congratulations, I think," she said.
Phelan frowned. "We haven't met, have we? Because if we have, I must have forgotten you."
Margaidh shook her head. "No. I just remembered your face from the news holovids, when they announced that you'd been killed by the Clans."
"I was on the news?" He seemed not to believe her.
"Sure. Well, you are cousin to the heir of the Federated Commonwealth, quiaff?"
Phelan nodded wryly. "Aff. I don't suppose there was any news about my father, was there?"
Margaidh shrugged. Colonel Kell was devastated. I won't forget that haunted face on the holovids. "I think he took it okay, considering." She bit her lip, seeing the pain in Phelan's face that was not entirely due to his injury. My mother must think I am dead too.
"Well, you know who I am, so I am clearly at a disadvantage," Phelan said, smiling at her.
"I'm sorry. I'm Margaidh, formerly Lewis, from Summer. Forgive me if I don't come over to shake your hand, but I'm none too steady on my feet at the moment."
"One good leg between the pair of us, eh? Not a very good score for the Federated Commonwealth." He laughed, and Margaidh scolded herself for thinking how handsome he looked. Stop it. Falling in love with two people at once has already got you in enough trouble. Don't go and complicate things by adding a third. Besides, judging from the way he talked to Ranna, he's already taken.
Phelan's smile suddenly became a frown of concentration. "Hang on a minute, did you say Lewis? From Summer?" Margaidh nodded. "Do you have a relative called Eleanor?"
Margaidh gaped. "My mother. Why, do you know her?"
"No, but I've heard some of the older Kell Hounds talk about her. I gather she spent a little time with the batallion shortly before my father came back in '27 and re-formed the Hounds as a regiment."
"I didn't know that," Margaidh said quietly. "She never mentioned meeting the Kell Hounds." Blake's Blood! I was born in twenty-seven. Was my father a Kell Hound?
"I remember them talking about a strange Mech she had," Phelan said. "A modified Shadow Hawk, I think."
"That would be the Blue Skye," Margaidh said, with a sad smile. "She passed it on to me after… after she left the Seventeenth Skye Rangers, and I took the same Mech back into the same regiment. Briefly. The Jade Falcons trashed it."
Phelan took a sharp intake of breath. Unlike most Clan Mechwarriors, Phelan was from the Inner Sphere, so he fully understood what it meant to be Dispossessed.
At that moment, the doctors returned, and since another patient was now requiring their attention, Jordan waved a hand at Margaidh, telling her that she could leave. She picked up the crutches and slipped her arms through the loops, and as she turned to say goodbye to Phelan, she caught glimpse of an anxious expression flash across his face. But it was gone in a moment, and he smiled. "I hope I see you around, Margaidh," he said with a smile and a wave.
Aboard the Dire-Wolf
21st January 3051
Margaidh looked out for Phelan over the following days, she was anxious to question him further about her mother's time with the Kell Hounds, in the hope of finding out something about her father, if indeed he was a Kell Hound. It briefly crossed Margaidh's mind that she and Phelan could possibly be cousins, but that led also to the possibility that she would then be cousin also to the obnoxious Prince Victor Steiner-Davion, so she hastily cast that thought aside.
She saw him in the canteen, as she and Kristen were searching for an empty table. Or rather, Phelan saw her first, because she heard his voice calling her name. "Margaidh! Would you and your friend like to join us?"
Margaidh smiled. "Thanks, Phelan. Um, this is Kris."
Phelan nodded, and likewise introduced Ranna, who was sitting beside him.
"How's your leg, Phelan?" Margaidh asked.
"Fine, now, thanks. How about you?"
Margaidh grinned. "I'm afraid it takes more than a medi-pack and a few days rest to fix a broken back."
Phelan paled. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't realise…"
"It's okay. I'm on the mend, slowly." Margaidh carefully lowered herself onto the plastic chair and lay her crutches on the floor. "If it wasn't for Clan medical technology, I would have been looking forward to a lifetime sitting in a wheelchair. But with any luck, I'll be getting back into a Mech."
Ranna raised her eyebrows, glancing first at the crutches and then at Margaidh's bondcord. "The odds are against you."
"I know," Margaidh replied. She grinned. "But I do not easily give up, once I have set myself a goal."
Ranna smiled faintly, and glanced at Phelan. "That sounds familiar." Then she grinned. "But if you wish to be a Mechwarrior, your chances will be improved by staying away from Phelan. He is an impudent, disrespectful whelp with a lot to learn himself. He would teach you bad habits." Ranna winked at Phelan, and despite her jibes, Margaidh could tell they were light-hearted.
"I've been wanting to ask you more about the Kell Hounds, Phelan," Margaidh said, as Kristen returned from the counter with her lunch.
"You mean when your mother was there?"
"Aff."
"Hmmm." Phelan shrugged. "Before my time, I'm afraid. I wasn't even born then. Why the concern?"
"I never knew my father. My mother always refused to tell me who he was. But I was born in late '27. I think he might have been a Kell Hound."
"Ooops." Phelan flushed. Then he grinned. "Well, it wasn't Morgan Kell, that's for sure. He didn't return until after Uncle Patrick was killed, and that was in May."
Margaidh frowned. "Did anyone in particular talk about my mother?"
"Cat Wilson, mostly. He was previously in the Tenth Skye Rangers, so I suppose they had something in common. I remember he said he admired her guts."
Margaidh's heart skipped a beat. "Could it have been him?"
Phelan laughed aloud. "No way. Cat Wilson was a confirmed bachelor. Besides, he's as black as the Ace of Spades." He noticed Margaidh's disappointment. "Look, I'm really sorry I can't help you. I just don't know any more about it. It was a long time ago, and a lot of water has gone under the Kell Hounds' bridge since then."
Margaidh nodded. "I know. Maybe I'm just jumping to conclusions." She smiled at Phelan. "Thanks anyway."
Phelan blinked at her, and for a moment, Margaidh saw an expression of surprise. "What is it?" she asked. Phelan simply blushed, and looked down at his plate. "Phelan?"
"I'm sorry, it's just… nothing."
"Phelan!"
Phelan looked at her, frowning. "It's probably nothing. Except, when you smiled I thought for a moment that you looked a little like Colonel Allard."
Daniel Allard? Could he be the one?Mother of Gods! I wish I could go back and ask somebody!
Aboard the Dire-Wolf
In-system Strana
Mechty
2 February 3051
As the nausea faded away, and the universe unfolded itself, Margaidh pressed the release button to unfasten the straps on the acceleration couch, and eased herself out of it and up onto her crutches. Then she hobbled over to join Domask by the window. Far in the distance, a disk of blue-green, striated with white clouds, shone in the starlight. For a moment it reminded her of Skye, the first time she made a journey off her home planet of Summer, when she went to the Sanglamore Military Academy as a raw cadet. Was that really only four and a half years ago?
"Is that it?"
"Aff." Domask turned towards Margaidh. "That is Strana Mechty."
