Freeing Ferguson
A BattleTech Short Story
By Roastpuff
Clarice Ferguson stared at the window of her bedroom in her father's Rostock estate with a melancholy expression on her face. She missed Frank terribly. After not seeing him for more than a year, and living in fear of his death on some unknown world in a wild escapade in the Periphery, touching him again in New Avalon had been a delightful feeling. Then, not two short weeks later, her Ifather/I had allowed Jacques Viler to Ikidnap/I her, threatens Frank and force her to lie to him. What a miserable month. Now, with the news with the battle that had raged in New Avalon, she had no option but to wonder whether Frank was still alive, and life was still worth living. She still had free run of the mansion, captivity or not, and there were still plenty of sharp objects in the kitchen.
A sharp tap on her window disturbed her reverie of suicide. Gasping in surprise, she scrambled back in fear as a black-clothed man materialized in front of the window and easily removed the plate ferro-glass as if it was hinged. She turned for the door, but a strong hand clamped itself upon her wrist, and another covered her mouth.
"Calm down, Miss Ferguson. I am not here to hurt you, but your screaming would make my job all the harder to do, understand?" whispered the voice in her ear. Clarice nodded, and she stumbled as her hand was released. Rubbing her wrist ruefully, she examined her visitor before speaking.
"Well, that is what I do when strangers in black clothing and a face mask break into my room, looking very threatening," she retorted. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
"My name is Donovan Tang, and I have been sent by the Precentor-Martial, who is accommodating a request by Frank Meronac," responded the black-clad person.
"The Precentor-Martial?" gasped Clarice. "What in the name of Blake is Frank doing requesting favors from the most powerful man in the Inner Sphere? For that matter, why is the Precentor-Martial granting his requests? He might-"
"Miss Ferguson, I do not know any answers for those questions. You'll just have to ask the Precentor-Martial that. What I am here for, however, is to ask you a question. Did you, or did you not, willingly leave New Avalon and tell Frank Meronac that you did not love him?" asked Donovan, interrupting her mid-rant.
"I was forced by my father and Colonel Jacques Viler. I loved Frank, and I still do," replied Clarice.
"Good. Now, I can give you a choice. If you want to, I have been authorized to extract you from here, and take you to New Avalon, where you can wait for Meronac's return. If not, you can stay here in your father's estate, and I will relay the fact that your departure was forced. Which is it?" stated Donovan.
"Return? Where from?" asked Clarice anxiously.
"As I've said before, Miss Ferguson, I do not know. What I want to know, however, is whether you will be accompanying me back to New Avalon tonight," stated Donovan.
"Of course I am!" exclaimed Clarice. "Let me put on something more appropriate for escaping from a gilded cage, and we'll be off. Um… if you could?" Clarice made a little motion with her hands, and Donovan turned around, a slight blush heating his cheeks. He nearly jumped out of his boots when somebody tapped him on the shoulder and spun into a crouched defense stance.
"Sorry, reflex action," he muttered in apology to Clarice. He attached her to the harness hanging outside the window, and lowered her down slowly. When she touched down, he expertly slid down the rope and landed softly on the ground next to her. Tapping his wrist-mounted minicomp, he ordered the winch to retract the compact harness back into itself and self-destruct, which it did in a small 'whump' as the thermal charge turned the machinery into a fused, unrecognizable lump of composites and metal. That done, he motioned to a flat-black hoverbike half-hidden in the bushes. She climbed into the pinion seat and wrapped her arms around Donovan as they began to move away. The silenced fans and engine of the hoverbike didn't make much noise as they moved off into the pitch-black darkness of the Drilands at night. Donovan didn't turn on the headlights, relying on the built-in light amplification feature of the HUD of the hoverbike. Only after they were more than three kilometers away from the estate did he turn them on, and sped up to the maximum speed of the hoverbike.
Clarice ducked down, using Donovan's body as a shield from the buffeting slipstream tugging at her hair. She wondered where she was going to wait for Frank, as she had no money, and hotels were definitely expensive. Returning to her apartment was definitely out of the question; her father had sold it, and all the furniture in it. Would Eddie or Sophie put her up for awhile? It certainly stood some thinking about. She frowned as the slipstream eased off, which meant that they were slowing down.
"Is there something wrong?" she asked.
"Hm? No, we're perfectly on time for our ride," he replied. "Here it comes now." She could hear an engine in the distance, or a plane, she couldn't tell which. Soon, she could make out a cloud of dust heading for them at an alarmingly fast rate. It turned out to be a ILightning/I hovertank, with an odd-looking attachment on one side. The tank commander popped the hatch, and a young twenty-something Leftenant came out.
"Leftenant Richard Walters," he said, introducing himself. "Since I know you're the only two people who should be here, let's get the hoverbike stored and get moving. Miss Ferguson, you can just climb into the tank. Corporal Malthus will show you to your seat." Clarice nodded and disappeared into the hovertank. Donovan and Walters manhandled the Yamaha R6-XV hoverbike into the harness, and tied it up securely.
"This better not budge," grunted Donovan as he tied the last strap. "Yamaha charged me close to seventy thousand C-Bills for this baby, and that's not counting the custom work done on it which costs more than the bike itself." They climbed inside and buckled in, and Malthus smoothly lifted the hovertank off the ground and forward, accelerating to it's top speed. Walters pulled out two bottles of water and handed them to his passengers, before pulling one out for himself.
"There's enough time for a good nap," advised the leftenant. "We still have a fair distance to go before, even at speed." Clarice laid her head back and tried to sleep among the din of the fans, but Donovan stayed awake, looking at the display screen and the dark landscape it showed.
"Been in a tank before?" asked the leftenant, curious about his mystery passenger.
"Yeah, lots of times," replied Donovan. "My dad was a tanker, and he took me out on his tanks pretty often when I was smaller."
"Was?" inquired Walters. "Did he die during the… civil war?"
"No, no. Bought it even before then. He was in Operation Bulldog, and when the Jags attacked McAlister, his tank company ran into an incoming Binary of 'Mechs hiding. Managed to get a few good licks in before he got smoked; they say it only took one shot from the 'Mechs behind him to finish the Clanner off, but it was too little too late."
Hours passed, and the two lapsed into silence.
"We've only got another hundred clicks to cover now. Then, we can drop you out about twenty clicks outside town. That sound ok to you?" said Walters. "It's almost sunrise. The sun will start showing in about another hour or so, and I suggest you be inside city limits by then."
"Yep. We'll take a commercial shuttle out of the aeroport. Thanks a whole bunch, Leftenant", said Donovan.
"Glad to be of service," replied Walters. The hovertank slowed to a stop and settled down gently. After detaching the hoverbike from the harness, the two men shook hands before the tank sped off into the distance. The short ride into Rostock was uneventful, and Donovan drove into the aeroport parking lot. He disappeared into the men's room for a few minutes and reappeared wearing jeans and a button-down shirt five minutes later. How he did it, Clarice didn't know. But she was wearing black slacks and a dark sweater, so she supposed she didn't stand out too much.
They purchased tickets for Avalon City and sat down to wait for the flight in the Starbucks conveniently located in the terminal.
"So, where to now?" asked Clarice, sipping at her coffee. She was tired, and needed the caffeine.
"Would you believe the Royal Palace?" replied Donovan. "The Princess Regent would like you to stay there. She thinks it would be safer for you, and your father and what's-his-name Village or something can't get at you easily. Besides, she thinks that your Frank would probably stomp on her with his 'Mech if you got so much as a papercut on your little pinkie. And believe me, his 'Mech is one nasty piece of work. Hefty bit of Clan machinery, that."
"He is not my Frank!" protested Clarice, blushing at the raised eyebrow Donovan sent her way as a reply. " His 'Mech should be on Outreach, not New Avalon, anyhow."
"Well then, one would wonder where he got the Night Gyr OmniMech on short notice in black-and-white war paint, no less, when the Fifth RCT started attacking. And how he piloted that machine like he'd had lots of practice with it," replied Donovan. "He must've had it transported somehow, and got to it before the Fifth attacked the spaceport. I wonder why?"
"He was fighting?" gaped Clarice. "Against the Fifth FedCom? Was he hurt?"
"I don't really know. All I know was that he got awarded the Silver Sunburst for fighting in the spaceport, and ending up with the under-strength company that dropped on the NAIS to pull the Precentor-Martial's feathers out of the fire," said Donovan. " I hear he even put down Annete Leyland personally. Gutsy, taking on another 'Mech fifteen tons heavier than himself when he was already damaged. " An announcement cut short Clarice's next gasp, and the two headed for the boarding gate.
The flight was uneventful, and they watched through the window as two Sparrowhawk aerofighters patrolled the perimeter of the spaceport. A row of Yellow Jacket VTOLs were being worked on outside of some hangars, and two Jagatai OmniFighters were sitting on a runway, ready to go on a moment's notice. 'Mechs and vehicles were also patrolling on the ground, bearing the colors of the Crucis Lancers. Their walk to the terminal was also under the watchful gaze of veteran troops toting rifles.
As they made their way through the crowded terminal, Clarice turned pale as soon as she spotted someone she knew very well.
"What is it?" murmured Donovan softly. He had felt her stagger, and tenseness radiated off her. He slipped her hand into his; it was cold and clammy.
"The MechWarrior sitting there at the café… that's Jacques Viler. He's a colonel in the Crucis Lancers, and he's the one that my father wants me to marry," whispered Clarice, her eyes darting around for an escape. "If he sees me here, he'll take me to my father, and that won't be a good thing."
"Don't you worry about that, Miss Ferguson. We'll be fine," reassured Donovan. He maneuvered Clarice to his other side and draped an arm casually around her; he was using his bigger body to shield her from Viler's view. It almost worked. They were about to enter a waiting taxi when Viler caught sight of Clarice's hair and rushed over.
"Clarice, is that you?" shouted Viler as he ran over to the taxi line. "Let go of her, you Naughty!" Viler could see the man stiffen as his insult struck them.
Donovan pretended to be angered, and he shut the door of the taxi. Inside, he was calculating his options. He wouldn't mind knocking the uppity colonel down a few pegs, but it would prove disastrous, as the events would be investigated. What a pity. He felt a hand grab his shoulder and spin him around.
"What did you call me, you big lump of 'Mech-jockeying dirt?" sneered Donovan. "My girlfriend's name happens to be Patricia, not Clarice. And she is Imy/I girlfriend, not yours."
"I'm very sorry sir… I must've confused her with someone else who is very dear to me. Naturally, I became jealous and angry when I saw her with someone else. I apologize for the misunderstanding," said Viler. He rubbed his eyes before continuing. "The patrols that they had me run are very tiring. I think it's starting to get to me. I'm very sorry, once again."
"That's all right. I'd be angry too, if I thought I saw another guy with my girl. Take a rest, you look like hell," advised Donovan. With that, he slipped into the cab and told the driver to take them to the Avalon Hilton.
"That was close," whispered Clarice.
"Quite," agreed Donovan. "We're almost home free. We've got an unmarked car outside of the hotel that will take us to the palace."
"That'd be nice," replied Clarice. She yawned widely; tired was an understatement after 20 hours on the go. "How come you're not tired?"
"I'm used to it. You're not, get some sleep. I'll wake you up when we get there," replied Donovan. Sleepily, Clarice nodded and fell into sleep. Donovan looked over, admiring the incredible way the sunlight played over her hair and brightened her pale features. No wonder two grown men felt no qualms fighting over Clarice Ferguson; she was as beautiful as any holovid star, and probably more caring when it came to it. Too bad she was taken.
Donovan shook himself out of his musings and returned to watching the street for any tails that he might've picked up on the way here. It seemed a bit too paranoid too him, but if this Duke of Lackland had resources like what the rumors said, it wouldn't hurt much to be paranoid. After all, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean that they weren't out to get you. By now, the old Duke would've noticed that his daughter was missing, and launched a big search for her in the surrounding countryside. There would be a loud hullabaloo over the missing Duchess-to-be, and he, Donovan, would be in the center of it all. Joy. At least he was just a grunt; a well-trained one the equal of any Death Commando, but still a grunt nonetheless. Sure, he was a MechWarrior by profession, but he found a 'Mech to be too crude for most of the work he'd had to do while he was with Comstar ROM. Poisons, blades, and bullets were much more… neater.
The taxi stopped in front of a posh hotel lobby and they got out. An unmarked GM sedan was waiting for them, and after authenticating the proper code phrases, they were bundled into the car and sped off into the Royal Palace. Clarice had fallen asleep again on the way there, and Donovan reached over to shift her into a more comfortable position so that she wouldn't wake up with a crick in her neck. The yellow sodium-vapor lights in the tunnel flashed by, illuminating their faces in an eerie glow.
"So what now?" Donovan asked the Palace Security agent.
"I'm not quite sure. We were told to get you there, and that was all they said," replied the agent.
"That's all right then," replied Donovan. Not long after their conversation, the car stopped at a side entrance. Putting Clarice to sleep in one of the empty bedrooms, Donovan followed the agent to the center of the Federated Suns to report to his employer.
/Fin/