Wolf's Free£ancers

Web novel by LtCol[W£]GrinnerWolf

Templar

MechWarrior Chronicles

Winds of Change
A proud Khan. A rebellious warrior. Together, they must strive against all odds to ensure the survival of their Clan.
A Web novel by A Garang Wolf, copyrighted by AFAR (©AFAR 2003) (ahfaiz@nstp.com.my). Other copyrighted materials belong to their respective owners.

Synopsis:
Due to unrelenting pressure from rival clans, the Ðreaded Legion faces total annihilation. In order to survive, it must adapt to new ways and leave Clan space before it is too late. However, the Ðreaded Legion can never trust Inner Sphere surats completely. Thus it must prepare for the day when it needs to draw on its reserve fighting force no one suspects exists - the Wolf's Free£ancers mercenary unit.

Chapter 1: Rebel with a cause

Chapter 2: The long journey begins

Chapter 3: A question of faith
Chapter 4: Death Comes on Swift Wings

Chapter 5: Lull before the storm

Chapter 6: The Crossover

Chapter 7: Rebirth

Chapter 8: The Gladiators

Chapter 9: Here be Pirates

Chapter 10: The Good Fight

Chapter 11: Price of Freedom

Chapter 12: Heart and Soul

"Travel documents," a White Star security officer demanded almost casually. Although security was not especially tight, it seemed unusual for dealing with intra-Clan personnel movements.

If it were lower caste members who were trying to gain access to the Warrior or Technician castes, tighter security was only to be expected. But in her case, Giana posed as a Merchant caste accounts executive shuffling back-up data crystals from one ship to another, and should have been waved through the disembarkation gate without more. Instead, she had been stopped for her travel documents to be inspected.
It was a sign of the times.

"Is there a problem, officer?" Giana asked in a pleasant and friendly manner, while she beamed over the documents from her wrist computer to the security officer's mobile terminal.

"Just a routine, random check, miss," the security officer replied while he looked Giana's documents over. "Will you be on The White Star long?" he asked.

"Only as long as required," Giana replied confidently. "About two weeks; three at the most."

"This is your first time on The White Star," the officer remarked.

"Yes," Giana affirmed enthusiastically.

"Enjoy your stay," he said, while waving Giana through the disembarkation gate.

"Thank you," Giana replied gratefully.

The White Star was the capital ship of the Merchant caste Chief Executive Officer (CEO) Richard Gates. Although officially, as head of the Merchant caste, his rank fell well below that of Scientist General of the Scientist caste, the ability of the Merchant caste to generate great amounts of wealth for the Dreaded Legion meant that Gates held a position of great influence in the clan.

He had direct access to the Khan, and for many times in the past, he had helped steer military decisions to benefit the Clan commercially. And in return, the Khan would provide special dispensation, which included the ability of the Merchant caste to enjoy a good measure of opulence.

As a result, The White Star was the grandest of all Dreaded Legion capital ships. A city unto itself, The White Star had giant revolving rings which created artificial gravity that was ideal for, among other things, entertainment parks, gaming centres and, somewhat unfortunately, vice.

More importantly, for centuries, the relationship between the Warrior caste and Merchant caste had worked out well. In order to wage successful wars, the Warrior caste obtained much of the resources it needed through the Merchant caste, and in return, the Merchant caste benefited directly from those wars through greater commerce opportunities, though not always.

In other words, as it was in the interest of the Merchant caste to work hard in generating wealth, there was never any question of keeping the Clan's war machine in its prime, so long as the Merchant caste got back more in return.

But times have changed. And the recent decision by Khan Voltage for the Clan to go rogue has been disastrous for the Merchant caste.

Cut off from its traditional trade ties, the Merchant caste's "domestic" economy was nearing collapse. Spiralling inflation, coupled with rising interest rates, resulted in job losses, riots, starvation, diseases and deaths.

As though that were not bad enough, the Labourer caste suffered an even worse fate. Being the lowest caste of the Clan, its members were among the first to feel the downward economic spiral effects of the Merchant caste, and many of them who aspired to be accepted as part of the Merchant or even Scientist caste found their hopes dashed to pieces and were driven easily to criminal violence and suicide.

Khan Voltage had offered CEO Richard Gates and Labour Chief Michael Ashdown the opportunity for their respective castes to break away from the Dreaded Legion clan and be absorbed by the Black Mamba clan, but both Gates and Ashdown declined the offer, citing loyalty to Voltage, duty to the clan and new livelihood opportunities when settling in Inner Sphere space, as well as when on the run even. In truth, neither Gates nor Ashdown found the idea of losing power and influence over their minions as a result of absorption into a new clan appealing, and both were determined to avoid absorption all costs, even if it meant betrayal.

And how deep the betrayal would go was something Giana had set out to find.

As she made her way out of the docking bays, Giana keyed in a coded message on her wrist computer and sent it off. About a minute later, she received a reply, detailing when and where her "deep-throat" contact would meet her.

She had just enough time to check into a mid-priced hotel located near the meeting place. So, Giana boarded a packed tube transport that was headed for it and let her mind drift - a practice she found both relaxing and enlightening when going over incomplete information.

Thus far, what she knew was that Deep-throat was, apparently, someone with knowledge of the backroom deals conducted by both Gates and Ashdown, but as to why he would want to risk his life to make contact with Giana was unclear. An information broker of sorts, Deep-throat said that he was a patriot and thought of the clan's interest first and foremost.

And while he risked having Giana report him to Legion Intelligence, he begged her to consider the well-being of the Inner Sphere and what he had to offer before doing so.
Based on that, Giana agreed to the meeting.

However, in the two or so years she had been with the Dreaded Legion posing as a MechWarrior, Giana had lived and fought beside Legion warriors. They, especially Star Colonel Darkstalker, had accepted her as one of their own.

And sometimes, she truly wished that she was. Having studied the ways of the Clans, she found them to be admirable, although somewhat over-the-top at times.

Nevertheless, Giana had no delusion regarding Clan politics. For, as politics went, they were dirty equally throughout the universe.

However, with respect to the Dreaded Legion, Giana found its quest to go beyond the limits of Clan ways, and in so doing, carve its own niche in the universe, well worth seeing through. For, her instincts told her that the Dreaded Legion was more than just a traitor to its own kind.

It stood in defiance of all the rot that existed in the politics of both Clan and Inner Sphere space.

So, when Deep-throat first contacted Giana, she was dumbstruck. Her Inner Sphere puppet masters and Legion Intelligence had been so focused on the ultra-conservative warriors of the clan that they were somehow blindsided.

The greater threat, albeit less immediate, came from the lower castes. For, the consequences of an ill-timed breakaway, especially in the final stages of the Dreaded Legion's struggle against total annihilation, would be disastrous.

'How could we not see it coming?' Giana recalled the words she uttered as she laid in bed naked next to Darkstalker.

'Because we had more pressing concerns,' he replied as he turned on his left side to face her, pressing his warm naked body against hers. 'And because we wanted to believe that everyone who were willing to embark on the hegira were united in one goal. We drew strength from it.'

'But at what price?' Giana asked.

The breakaway could work greatly to Victor Davion's advantage, though. Cut off from even more resources, the Dreaded Legion would have no choice but to agree to every demand Victor made, no matter how unreasonable.

And indeed, as a Fed-Com/Kell Hounds Intelligence operative, Giana was to operate as though the Dreaded Legion was nothing more than a means to an end. But she had been in too deep and for too long to keep to that view solely.

'You know there is no turning back,' she recalled Darkstalker as saying. 'We may never see each other again,' he added, stating the obvious, with regret clearly in his voice.

'I believe in this, and belief in what I am doing has a kept me alive and going all these years,' came her response. 'Besides, I might still surprise you by showing up at your doorstep someday.'

And the memory brought a smile on her face.

"Next stop, Victory Square," said a saccharine-sweet female voice over the public address system of the tube transport, pulling Giana out of her reverie. When she got off the transport, she could not help notice the gloomy atmosphere of the botanical garden called Victory Square.

It was supposed to be a tropical garden, and yet, the temperature was more suited to a temperate climate park during autumn.

Men and women in ragged clothing were sitting about on cardboard boxes, hugging their meagre belongings which they kept in plastic bags. And some could even be seen begging.

Such a sight would have been common enough in the Inner Sphere, but in a Clan caste system, the great disparity of wealth among peoples of the same caste was almost entirely unheard of, and so, it bordered on the criminal.

Another sign of the times.

In juxtaposition to Victory Square's poverty was Victory Inn, the mid-priced hotel Giana was supposed to check into. It had not seemed to have lost its modicum of grandeur. It was still receiving guests, most of whom appeared well-to-do enough.

"Welcome to Victory Inn, miss," said the doorman as Giana stepped into the hotel.

Giana responded with a nod and a light smile. She then walked up to the reception desk and checked herself in.

Several minutes later, she was in her room going over last minute details in preparation for her meeting with Deep-throat. Then, her wrist computer vibrated, notifying Giana of a message she had just received; text only.

After running it through a decryption algorithm, the message read: "YOU'RE MORE LOVELY LOOKING THAT I HAD THOUGHT. STRANGE QUALITY FOR AN UNDERCOVER OPERATIVE. YOU DON'T EXACTLY STAND OUT, BUT YOU DON'T QUITE BLEND IN EITHER. MEET ME IN VICTORY SQUARE IN FIVE MINUTES. WALK UP TO A 'HOMELESS' SITTING UNDER A BROKEN STREETLAMP. BUY A METALIC ROSE. HE'LL TRY TO SELL YOU MORE. PRETEND TO HAGGLE."

'That was him, Deep-throat,' Giana thought, recalling the destitute clansman under the broken streetlamp she had passed by about half an hour ago. With calm, measured steps, Giana exited her room and headed down toward Victory Square.

Giana was both nervous and excited, but she let such feelings of anxiousness pass over her, as per her training. Giving in to such emotions would only serve to escalate their levels further.

Upon reaching the square, Giana looked for the destitute clansman, and found him exactly where she had spotted him earlier. As she walked up toward him, the man raised a quaint looking metallic rose toward her, as though to offer it in sale.

When he was within earshot, he said, "Beautiful is it not, miss? Almost as beautiful as you. 2 credits only."

Giana took the rose with a kindly smile and said, "That's kind of expensive for a recycled product, don't you think?"

"Goodness, gracious me," said the clansman with mock dismay. "2 credits can hardly buy me a bowl of hot soup these days. I ought to be charging your more, but since you're so pretty, it'll only cost you 2 credits."

With an even brighter smile, Giana said, "2 credits it is then." But all the while, she was assessing the man. Could he be Deep-throat in disguise?

Possible, but no. The man looked too genuine to be an undercover agent.

However, when she squatted down to place her wrist computer near the man's, to beam over the 2 credits, Giana noticed something odd. She did not notice it earlier because the clansman's wrist computer was covered up by his long sleeve.

It, the wrist computer, was not befitting a man of destitution.

When the credits transfer took place, Giana's wrist computer vibrated, signalling not the completion of the transaction but of incoming transmission.

"Nice wrist computer you have there," Giana commented.

"You think so?" the man responded. "I think so, too," he added with a wide grin. "Some idiot wanted to trade mine for his. What the hell? It was too good a deal to pass over."

Getting up, Giana smiled kindly. She then looked casually at her own wrist computer as though to compare hers to the clansman's but meant, instead, to accept the incoming transmission.

"Don't walk away," said the fuzzy face on her wrist computer screen. Its regitised voice was came through Giana's ear piece, loud and clear. "We're communicating via short com-link. Walk away and the scrambled link will be lost. No, don't say anything either. Just listen. It isn't safe for us to meet face to face. Legion Intelligence is onto us. And I can only presume that you didn't tip them off."

Giana gave away nothing in response to Deep-throat's implied accusation.

With a sigh, he continued, "In any case, you would be wise to take my message back to your superiors, or I would be forced to activate my sleeper agent in the Kell Hounds."

Giana frowned ever so slightly in response.

"Why you and not the sleeper agent who carries the message?" Deep-throat asked rhetorically. "Better for it to come from an agent your masters can trust than a turncoat they can hardly believe. And in the event that you are indeed a double agent, you'd want to find out who that sleeper agent is wouldn't you."

Then, Deep-throat's fuzzy image became larger as he moved closer to the screen on his side. "Return to the Inner Sphere and do what's best for both of us," he added in a firm but unthreatening way. And the wrist computer screen went black.

At the top right side blinked a "coded message received" icon. Giana ran the decryption algorithm she used earlier to decode Deep-throat's messages, but it failed to work. So, Giana had no way of knowing how useful the encrypted message would be to Legion Intelligence, if at all it could be decrypted by Legion Intelligence; not without first returning to the Inner Sphere.

'He must intend to give me the decryption algorithm only after I've reached Kell Hounds HQ,' Giana thought.

And how would he know that Giana has reached her destination? 'Through his sleeper agent,' she answered her own question.

The next day, Giana boarded a seemingly ordinary looking Kappa class transport, supposedly ferrying recycled food and water supplies from capital ship to capital ship. The imaginatively named transport, Space Urchin Queen, also doubled as a personnel transport.

But, from its battle scars, Giana saw that the Space Urchin Queen was no ordinary ship. For, it has had more than its fair share of space battles for a vessel of its type and class.

Upon boarding the Space Urchin Queen, Giana was taken to the Captain's ready room for immediate debriefing via holovid conferencing with Star Colonel Darkstalker. Also present was the ship's flamboyant looking commander, Star Captain Nasser.

"He knows," Giana said without preamble. "Or at least, he suspects. In any case, I have no choice but to return to the Inner Sphere."

"You did not think it would be that easy, did you?" Darkstalker said with a touch of laughter but without sounding condescending.

"Well, now we know we are not dealing with rank amateurs," Giana continued.

"No, I suspected we were not," Darkstalker said more seriously. "Otherwise, they would not have been able to keep a tight lid on their operations for so long."

"If anything, they are two or even three steps ahead of us," Nasser offered his observation.

"Do you have a 'leaky ship', Star Captain?" Giana asked, almost ruefully.

Hearing that, Nasser lifted an eyebrow as though he might have taken offence to the question. "I assure you, proper security measures have been put in place," Nasser said, trying to sound neutral and professional.

"No offence, Star Captain, but is there any way for me to get off this ship without being detected or observed?" Giana clarified.

"Regretfully, as much as I want to believe that none of my crew is disloyal, I cannot vouch for each and every one of them. They have all proven themselves in battle over and again, and yet, their captain is not of their caste. It would be so much easier if we all lived in a casteless society, I suppose. My people often look up to me as their true commander, you know, but then you show up, and we are all reminded that I am not really one of them."

Of course, Nasser was well aware that Giana was not of the Warrior caste, but ever since MechWarrior Wolf's short stint on the Space Urchin Queen, Nasser's crew have been especially suspicious of everyone who came aboard. And when Giana was accorded special treatment, it was all that they needed to confirm their suspicion that, like Wolf, Giana was a warrior.

"Then there is no way for me to get off this ship without risk of detection," Giana said.

"Why the desperate need to get off?" Nasser asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Deep-throat has a sleeper agent among the Kell Hounds," Giana began. "And he divulged that information to me to further persuade me to return to the Inner Sphere - or not."

"How so?" Nasser asked, not quite seeing the direction Giana was going with her explanation.

"Deep-throat more than suspects that she is a double agent," Darkstalker explained for Giana. "By telling her that he has a sleeper agent, he forces her out. In which event, her usefulness as our agent becomes severely limited."

"I'm... sorry," Nasser began, sounding perplexed. "This cloak-and-dagger stuff is a little above my head."

"To put it plainly, Star Captain, I am done for," Giana said. "If I go back, I will be put under a series of highly invasive chemical interrogation sessions, no doubt at the prompting of the sleeper agent. And if I do not return, the sleeper agent would gain even more credibility."

"Well, in that case, we have very little to lose," Nasser said. "I can have you 'confined' to your quarters - I will arrange for a suitable substitute, of course. And you can slip off this ship and do whatever it is that you do best, if that is what you want."

"And the risk of being found out?" Giana asked.

"The risk would be... manageable," Nasser said. "You remind me of someone I know, who felt the need to do something useful, even though it meant risking his own life. He ended up saving this entire ship."

Giana's puzzled expression showed that she did not know whom Nasser was alluding to. Quite naturally, what with Giana being a Kell Hounds agent, she was deliberately kept out of the loop with regard to MechWarrior Wolf's mission in the Inner Sphere.

Nasser flashed Giana a knowing but disarming smile and continued, "By the time the rest of the crew finds out that you have left the ship, we would be in deep space. And the only way anyone can send a message via HPG is through me."

"That is assuming that getting off is the right thing to do," Giana said. "We could arrange for my 'erasure and programming' session to counter the risk of my divulging highly damaging information."

"Neg," Darkstalker said. "We are not that desperate."

"Dark," Giana started to say.

"Most of our sleeper agents who go through 'erasure and programming' never quite recover," he pressed on, ignoring Giana's attempt to interject. "Indeed, most of them achieve their primary mission objectives, but then, they become too unstable to be of any use thereafter."

"They go mad," Giana said what Darkstalker could not. "Dark, if it has to be done, then so be it."

Darkstalker looked away from the holovid camera, a sure sign that he was having difficulty fighting his feelings for Giana.

"I may be the age of a solahma warrior, and I may not as much experience as a covert operative, but are we not overlooking something here?" Nasser cut in. "Who says that she has to go back at all? This Deep-throat character means to only use Giana as an over glorified courier. If she disappears - as a result of interstellar jump accident, or whatever - the sleeper agent would have to go on a limb to establish his credibility would he not?"

"Aff," Darkstalker agreed, while keeping his expression neutral. "And instead of us being forced to play his game, Deep-throat is forced to play ours."

"Exactly," Nasser said, but then added, a little uncertain, "I think...."

"But the basic premise of my return is so that we could protect our, I mean, the Dreaded Legion's interest," Giana said.

And Giana's slip of the tongue brought another smile to Nasser's face. "Now I can see why the good Star Colonel seems unusually attached to you," he commented, a little off-topic, but it was nonetheless poignant. "You truly consider yourself to be one of us, do you not?"

"With every fibre of my being," Giana replied honestly.

"Then there is no time to lose," Nasser said. "You should do what you do best - hunt down Deep-throat and figure out who is pulling his strings."

"Unfortunately, our arrest and interrogation of the destitute clansman whom Deep-throat used as an inadvertent go-between has turned up nothing of significance," Darkstalker informed. "But you are right, Star Captain, time is of essence. Giana, make haste in getting off the Space Urchin Queen. I need you to stir a hornet's nest."

"What do you have in mind?" Giana asked.

"All in good time," Darkstalker replied. "Deep-throat would have a back-up plan to cater to your possible defection. Let us see if he has a back-up for a back-up. I will activate a suitable covert cell which will contact you in a few hours."

"Understood," Giana acknowledged.

And with that, the holo-display went blank.

"I will make suitable arrangements," Nasser said. "For now, you should go to your quarters. I will buzz you, when ready."

"Thank you, Star Captain," Giana said as she stood at attention and nodded respectfully at Nasser, and then turned to leave Nasser's ready room.

When the doors to the room closed behind her, the holo-display came back to life.

"How can we trust her?" Nasser queried.

"We cannot, although I desire it will all my heart," Darkstalker replied. "Hence I will not."

"Duty before passion," Nasser remarked.

"Aff, duty before passion," Darkstalker affirmed.

Several hours later, as the Space Urchin Queen made ready to leave the docking area of The White Star, final pieces of cargo were being loaded on and off the the Kappa class transport. In one of the supply crates crouched Giana in a non-descript Merchant caste tech uniform.

Her crate was being loaded off along with a few others by a dock-Mech. Similar in size to the average agro-Mech, the dock Mech was nothing more than an oversized exoskeleton which housed a dock worker in its chest cavity.

The dock-Mech pilot was brutally efficient in manoeuvring the arms and feet of his machine, and while he did not do anything that would damage the crates he was unloading, he was less than gentle. As a result, Giana was being tossed about in her crate like a rag doll.

She was only too grateful when her crate finally settled onto a magnetic conveyor belt. Sighing a breathe of relief, Giana sat up in her empty crate and began to inspect and massage gently the bumps and bruises she had received.

And then the conveyor belt stopped. Faintly, Giana could hear angry shouts and slogan chanting.

"Great, a freaking dock strike," Giana swore under her breath.

Labourer caste techs and general workers were staging a mass protest against poor wages and accommodation. Similar strikes were being held throughout the Dreaded Legion's fleet of Merchant caste ships.

Still, Giana had hopped for better timing.

Giana's crate was not air-tight. So, she was not in any danger of suffocating, but she was alarmed by the prospect of languishing in the stuffy crate for hours or even days before being rescued by Legion Intel covert operatives.

There was not enough for her to eat and drink for more than a day. Worse still, if the heat in the docking area got dialled-down to encourage the near-rioting workers to disperse, Giana might even freeze to death.

But there was nothing she could do at the moment other than sit and wait. So, Giana unzipped the front of her uniform, slipped her shoulders and arms out and began fanning herself with her cap. She might as well try to make herself more comfortable because it was going to be a long wait - or was it really?

Suddenly, the shouts and taunts became louder. In the midst of the din, she could hear someone speaking through a loudhailer telling the workers to disperse because the gathering was without permit and therefore illegal - he was probably a White Star security officer.

And then the conveyor belt started moving again, throwing Giana off balance a little. But almost as soon as it had started, it stopped again.

And Giana heard the sound of a pressurised hatch closing tight, shutting out the din coming from the strikers.

Then, Giana's crate popped open, forcing her to cringe in a bright light that was shone at her face. Immediately, she shielded her eyes with the palm of her left hand.

"It's her," Giana heard someone say, in the darkened container bay.

And then someone else yanked her roughly upwards, forcing her to stand. Instinctively, Giana raised her hands in submission after standing upright.

"What are you doing?" she heard the man who yanked her up ask. "We don't have much time. Get out of there. We need to disappear before a real security team arrives."

Giana turned to face the man. To her relief, it was the leader of the Legion Intel cell assigned to aid her in her mission.

She only knew his face, though. Procedure dictated that no names be exchanged, or at least not real names.

And then Giana became self-conscious. Everyone appeared to be staring at her half naked body - she only had a skimpy brazier on; the top half of her jumpsuit was around her shapely waist.

Quickly, Giana slipped her arms and shoulders back into the jumpsuit and zipped it all the way up. Then, she planted a foot firmly on the edge of the open crate and propelled herself over effortlessly in the zero-G environment.

"Right, this way," said the cell leader, as he turned to moved toward a service door. The other agents followed without waiting for Giana to move first.

As one of the female agents passed Giana, the agent said, "Nice ass."

Taken aback somewhat by the remark and by the female agent's tall and muscular physique, Giana could not help but think to herself, 'Gosh, what a butch of a woman.'

The service entrance led to the automation passages which were nothing more than crawl spaces for maintenance crew to utilise when the ships automation systems broke down. Usually, intruder alarms would sound off and whole sections of the passages would be locked down to contain unauthorised personnel.

But as usual, Legions Intel was way ahead in the game. No alarms would sound for a while.

Everyone in the cell started to strip down. Then, one of the cell agents grabbed a duffle bag from behind a utility closet and emptied its contents.

Among them were Merchant tech uniforms, which he began passing to everyone else.

The emptied duffle bag was then filled with the security personnel uniforms used earlier, along with everything else, like security passes and weapons. Then, the whole bag was forced down a garbage chute located next to the utility closet.

"Right," said the cell leader out loud, but more for Giana's benefit. "It's going to be a slow crawl from here on end. The system's intruder detection system has been shut down for maintenance but there are lots of working automatons in there. Try not to get in their way. If you are, get out of their way as fast as you can, or else, those automatons would start registering malfunctions that'll bring a real maintenance crew crawling around down here."

"Understood," Giana acknowledged.

The trip through the passages took nearly forty five minutes. The cell leader had to backtrack a few times in order to avoid areas with heavy concentration of automatons.

And in backtracking, Giana accidentally backed into a maintenance robot that was tugging a mini-flatbed. The automaton crashed into Giana's foot and then shuddered as though to clear its senses.

Quickly, Giana rolled onto her side in order to get out of its way. But then, when the automaton began moving forward again, it shuddered as though stuck in a feedback loop.

Many of the cell agents starred accusingly at Giana, almost to say that they were all doomed because of her.

Quickly, Giana applied the universal fix by slapping the automaton squarely on what looked like its head. And happily, the maintenance robot went on its way.

Giana smiled and shrugged in surprise.

The others, who were not amused, looked away, with a few snorting and shaking their heads in disapproval.

"Over here," the cell leader said, upon reaching a exit hatch. "The coast should be clear. But be prepared for hand-to-hand. Let me do some talking first and then strike if you see that we're not getting anywhere with that."

Everyone nodded.

The cell leader popped the hatch, and eased himself through into a small maintenance bay

"All clear," he said.

With that, everyone else began spilling out of the hatch.

If they all did not look grimy before, they looked every bit like the grimy Merchant techs they were disguised as.

Giana tried to wipe away some grime from her face with the backs of her hands with little success. And that, inadvertently, invited a helping hand.

The cell agent who teased Giana about her rear began wiping away some grease from Giana's ears with her rough fingers. The fact that Giana looked surprised and uncomfortable did not deter her.

"Hi, I'm Jo," the manly female cell agent introduced herself.

Quickly, Giana gathered her wits about her and asked, "Would that be short for Joseph or Joanne?"

A few of the other cell agents sniggered at Giana's smart comeback but quickly shut up and looked away when Jo stared at them.

"It's just Jo," she said as she turned and looked Giana in the eyes in a way that clearly showed interest.

"Save the introductions for later," the cell leader cut in. "We have to clear this place before a maintenance crew makes their rounds."

He then jumped onto an open-top mini-transport and activated its motors. "You're with me," he said to Giana, ordering her to get on next to him.

The rest filled in behind or got onto another mini-transport to the rear, save for Jo who propelled herself forward to the maintenance bay hatch and activated its mechanism. The hatch swished open to reveal a large but quiet passage.

When both transports had exited the bay, Jo deactivated the hatch mechanism, letting the hatch close with a slow but audible swish. She then climbed onto the rear mini-transport.

"What do I call you, then?" Giana asked the cell leader.

"Smithy," he replied.

"Of course, that's not your real name," Giana remarked.

"Of course," he confirmed.

"I'm G," Giana said.

"Nice to meet you, G," Smithy said. "That's Sam, Andy, Luigi, Maggie, Shirley, Charlie and Jo," he introduced everyone else while indicating with his thumb for clarity.

"Tell me," Giana began, "Why the elaborate escape?"

Smithy turned his head to look at Giana squarely and then inclined it slightly while asking, "What?"

"Why did we have to go crawling around in the automation passages when we could have left through the front door?" Giana pressed on.

"Where are you going with this?" Smithy asked right back.

Giana smiled and said, "I smell a rat."

"The only thing you're smelling is yourself," Smithy replied as he turned to face forward again. "Standard operating procedure for Merchant caste capital ships when dealing with unauthorised gatherings is riot prevention or control and then dispersal, but not before a thorough screening of individuals involved in the unlawful gathering is done."

"You're not listening...," Giana began to say.

"No, you're not listening," Smithy cut her off. "We may falsify your ID and get you through, but someone would spot you. You're not dealing with amateurs."

"Are you referring to yourself or the opposition?" Giana asked cynically.

"Take your pick," Smithy replied noncommittally and that seemed to bring the tensed exchange to a close.

But while Giana said nothing more, her instincts told her that there was something not quite right about the covert ops. As the mini-transports continued on their journey, she weighed the things that bugged her.

Foremost was Jo. While it could be merely coincidental, Jo's participation in the cell fed into Giana's suspicion that she was being manipulated and tested by Legion Intelligence, or rather, by the man she had fallen for - Darkstalker.

Once, she revealed that she was oddly curious about dykes and on occasions felt attracted to some of them. And these traits made working undercover as a lesbian easier.

However, there was no need for a dyke to be part of the cell. So, why include Jo, if not to unsettle her or keep her off balanced?

Giana turned to look at Jo over her shoulder and she was rewarded with a mock kiss from Jo.

She was going to have to play her cards right if she was going to survive in one piece.

Meanwhile, several light years away, Darkstalker was in Khan Voltage's ready room aboard the light carrier Attica, briefing Khan Voltage and saKhan Dig on the results of his final investigations into a fractious matter and one that threatened to tear the Dreaded Legion apart if handled wrongly.

"So, you see, my Khan, the Court Marshall was correct in finding her guilty for letting herself be so misguided. Nonetheless, in these changing times, she has unwittingly become a symbol for progressive change," Darkstalker argued.

Voltage clenched his right fist and touched it lightly to his lips, while contemplating Darkstalker's words.

"I have made sweeping changes, and still they are not enough," Voltage said, finally. "If I make more, I will end up destabilising further our Warrior caste, which is already on the brink of collapse. If I do not, I will cause wide scale mutiny. You call these options?"

"They are the best I can come up with at this time, my Khan," Darkstalker said apologetically.

"And if I do nothing?" Voltage asked.

"You may continue to do nothing, and let things fall where they may," Darkstalker began. "However, while our warriors grow increasingly restless, that is all they can do for now and in the near future. There is no one bold enough to oust you in these difficult times, especially after the last roundup of disaffected warriors. What is more, we are about to create a power vacuum in the Merchant and Labourer castes respectively. Warrior caste restlessness and disaffection would be nothing compared to the chaos you must handle then. Brinkmanship requires that you do not have her case hanging over your head and tarnishing your image as a firm but fair leader, at the very least."

"Then it is decided," Voltage said.

"Umm...," Darkstalker said, to indicate that there was something else to be considered.

"And there is more?" Voltage asked warily.

"Tech 3rd Class Annabelle refuses to be used as a pawn in our 'little chess game' she said," Darkstalker explained. "I have tried persuading her. I have even tried bribing her."

"Leave that to me," Voltage said. "You would do better to concentrate your resources on finding for our Warriors worthy opponents to duel against, other than each other."

"You could always steer the fleet closer to Jade Falcon reconnaissance patrols," Darkstalker quipped, but then cleared his throat uncomfortably when he saw that Voltage was not amused. "I will do my best," Darkstalker said in a placating tone.

"I am sure you will," Voltage acknowledged, letting the awkward moment pass.

Turning to saKhan Dig, Voltage asked, "You have nothing to add?"

Dig smiled lightly and said, "Actually, neg."

"And that is a good sign, quiaff?" Voltage asked rhetorically, and it was his turn to quip.

"You know me," Dig said plainly. "I do not believe in saying the obvious."

"You know? Sometimes I think you would have made a better Khan," Voltage said.

Dig rolled his eyes upwards, turned to look at Darkstalker and noticed that the Star Colonel was smiling wide. With the lull in battle planning and lack of action in deep space, Warriors were becoming restless. While many took out their frustrations on one another by beating each other almost to a pulp, Voltage and Dig vented theirs almost like how old married couples would.

"You are dismissed, Star Colonel," Dig said. "Oh, and please send in Tech 3rd Class Annabelle."

"Aff, my Khan," Darkstalker replied, as he stood at attention and nodded respectfully, after which he turned and left Voltage's ready room.

A moment later, there was a knock on the ready room door.

"Come," said Voltage.

The door swished open and Tech 3rd Class Annabelled entered. Although she did it in military fashion, her actions lacked any sort of enthusiasm, thus bordering on insolence.

Annabelle came several paces of Voltage and stopped. She stood at attention but was not really standing straight.

Voltage who was sitting on his ready room couch, felt his inner self fluster at the sight of Annabelle's subtle disrespect, but he kept cool.

Nonetheless, Dig unbuckled his seat's restraints and got up from his easy chair next to the sofa, and walked over to the refreshment cabinet to refill his drink canister with non-alcoholic fruit punch. He needed to get out of Voltage's way in case the Khan reacted to Annabelle's insolent behaviour, and Voltage had been known to respond to lesser insults from trueborn Warriors.

Voltage let the tense mood in the ready room hang a little longer before speaking. But when he spoke, it was not in reproach.

"At ease, Annabelle," Voltage said, dispensing with her rank, and lifting the mood in the ready room a little.

"Your sentence has been commuted," Voltage stated.

"And so I have been told," Annabelle said, out of turn.

Voltage's expression grew stern again, but then mellowed.

"Commuted in return for your cooperation," Voltage continued.

"And what makes you think that I am cooperating?" Annabelle asked cynically.

"I see," Voltage said as he turned to look away in disbelief. "You think that you have nothing more to lose and so you play daredevil with me."

"On the contrary, my Khan," Annabelle said coyly. "I've been beaten senseless, chemically interrogated, emotionally wrecked, and yet, I'm still here."

"Watch your contractions, you freebirth scum!" Dig shouted angrily.

Voltage raised a hand to calm Dig down and to stave any further retort that might come from him.

"And so, you think I need you more than you need me," Voltage said in an even tone. "Please consider carefully the fact that you are not a crucial piece in my 'chess game'. As you so rightly put, you are a pawn. But even pawns can be promoted to Queens."

Annabelle was about to provide a smart comeback when Voltage silenced her with a threatening finger while saying, "Be careful of what you say from this point on, Tech 3rd Class Annabelle. My patience has limits."

Voltage let a moment of silence pass in order to let his threat sink in. He then unbuckled his seat restraints and stood.

Voltage snorted lightly and then said, "You may not believe this but you remind me a lot of my own mother. Med Tech 1st Class Ruby was not much different from you. Although she was found innocent of any misconduct, she was hidden away as though I was a shame for her to bear alone. All she wanted was to serve the clan. And rape was her reward. The injustice of it all... was senseless."

Voltage turned and walked toward the view ports in his ready room.

"And still she made me swear an oath: that I would rise above the injustices visited upon her, to serve the clan to the fullest as she once did," Voltage continued. "And to this day, I have kept my promise. Although she never had the chance to see her son promoted to the Warrior caste, let alone become Khan; although I have not spoken to her or benefited from her wise counselling in... decades, she is in my heart for every crucial decision I have had to make for the clan."

Voltage turned to look at Annabelle to see if she was anywhere close to understanding what he was trying to say. To Voltage's relief, Annabelle demeanour appeared less hostile.

"In other words, Annabelle, I can do right by you," Voltage pressed on. "All you have to do is trust me. Your son and I have more in common than you imagine. And because of what happened to my mother and to me, there is now a precedent that we can build on that would safeguard the future for both you and your son."

"Why?" Annabelle began to say, as tears flowed from her eyes. "Why did you...? Why torture...? Why...why did you take my son away from me?"

"Regrettably, we needed to be sure," Voltage said. "We needed to push you to your breaking point and then submit you to chemical interrogation. Everyone breaks given enough time and pressure; we needed to see if you were working with the gene stealers, which you were obviously not."

"What about Deborah?" Annabelle asked quickly.

"Med Tech 3rd Deborah? What about her?" Voltage feinted ignorance.

"Has her death sentence been commuted as well?" Annabelle asked.

"Aff," Voltage replied. "After reviewing her case file, I have allowed her to be reunited with Tech 1st Class Ruolfo."

Annabelle appeared relieved to hear that, and then her expression changed to one of hatred. "What of Med Tech 2nd Class Andrew?" she asked.

"Why are you concerned with him?" Voltage asked right back in a genuinely enquiring tone.

"The man deserves to die after what he did to Deb," Annabelle seethed.

"Aaah," Voltage said in understanding. "And so he shall," Voltage affirmed. "His sentence has not been commuted, but we are not done with him yet."

A look of satisfaction came across Annabelle's face. Clan interrogation was a fate that was often worse than death.

"More importantly, I need you to play the role my late mother never could," Voltage continued. "I need you to be a symbol of strength and unity for our clan in these trying times."

"In exchange for...?" Annabelle asked.

"Justice," Voltage said. "Plain and simple."

About a week later, Labourer caste discontentment continued to boil into riots on the Merchant caste capital ship The White Star. While many have already been punished severely, it was no deterrent against more riots.

Worse still, lower ranking members of the Merchant caste were beginning to join the riots organised by agent provocateurs among the Labourer caste. And this made the situation uncontrollable.

While the clan's Criminal Procedure Code could be used to punish a few hundred rioters, the clan could not punish what amounted to more than half the crew complement of The White Star. It would spark a wide scale mutiny in both the Merchant and Labourer castes.

And this was exactly what Merchant caste CEO Richard Gates wanted. Looking satisfied, he leaned back in his high-back leather chair behind his mahogany desk.

There was artificial gravity at his opulent looking office, as it was located at one of the many revolving rings of The White Star.

"How many more of my people are you going to sacrifice before we move?" asked Labour Chief Michael Ashdown as he was reviewing data pads containing intelligence reports gathered by Gates' spy network and comparing them to the intelligence gathered by his own people.

"Your conscience troubling you again?" Gates asked cynically. "I think we've gone well pass the turning point for you to even be asking that sort of question."

"Huh!" Ashdown snorted. "I just don't want there to be too few labourers for me to be chief of."

Gates looked at Ashdown in sidelong fashion and felt the urge to tell Ashdown off, but then, he thought better of it. Like Gates, Ashdown did not really care for his people beyond their immediate circle of influence. They were both conspiring purely for political survival.

Indeed, when Khan Voltage announced his breakaway plans to Gates and the leaders of the other great houses that ruled the Merchant caste, Gates saw his days numbered. The economic ruin that would ensue meant that he would be replaced by one of the leaders of the other great Merchant caste houses.

In turn, that would precipitate his own financial ruin and, consequently, the fall of the House of Gates. Gates had made far too many enemies to expect the other great houses not to cash in on his misfortunes.

Even his own allies would stab him in the back if that meant pulling ahead of Gates.
And as allies went, Gates could only include Labour Chief Ashdown in his grand mutiny plans.

Ashdown was far more desperate than any of the great Merchant caste house leaders, after all. Like Gates, Ashdown had lived a life that was too privileged for him to settle with anything less, despite being a "labourer" of the Labourer caste.

Once, both Gates and Ashdown contemplated being absorbed by the Black Mamba clan. No matter how they reasoned, it was a fate no lower caste leader wanted.

Better to take their chances with Khan Voltage than to lose almost everything they had toiled for in one simple act of absorption by a rival clan.

"We will move soon enough, Michael," Gates assured finally.

"It'd better be!" Ashdown snapped. "Voltage is breathing down my neck, the labourers are demanding my removal from office.... If we don't move quick, my efforts in aiding you, Dick, would be for nothing."

"If it makes you feel any better, Voltage is also breathing down my neck," Gates placated. "He's even threatened to have me replaced by Writ with that upstart leader of House Jung if I don't have disaffected Merchant caste people under control."

"So, what the hell are you waiting for?!" Ashdown shouted.

"For the right moment," Gates said calmly and in an even tone. And as he sat upright, he added, "We only get one chance, Michael. Just one. We lose that chance, and it's all over."

"I say, that chance is now," Ashdown said, as he tossed the data pads he was looking at earlier in front of Gates. "Our agent has begun negotiations with the Kell Hounds. Make them send a protection force now as a sign of good faith on their part."

"And once we're in their hands, do you think we'd be in a better position to negotiate terms than we are now?" Gates asked rhetorically.

"Don't patronise me, Dick," Ashdown warned. "Now you listen to me...."

"No, you listen to me!" Gates said raising his voice. "I've worked too damn hard to get us this far. If we move too fast, we'll be right back where we started, damn it! Do you honestly think that the Kell Hounds would willingly let disaffected clanners roam around in their back yard? No! Given the chance, they'd strip us clean and make us bondsmen of Clan Wolf in Exile."

Hearing that, Ashdown inhaled deeply, looked away, and sighed out loud in frustration.

"Michael," Gates called out gently. "Look at me, Michael."

When Ashdown turned to look, Gates said, "We hold just a little while longer," and gestured with the palm of his hands reassuringly. "Our agent is in the final stages of negotiations. Give her a chance to finish her work, and then we'll leave."

"By then, it may be too late," Ashdown retorted, unconvinced.

"It won't be," Gates continued to assert. "I've been able to trust my business instincts all these years. This is where my instincts have gotten me," Gates added, while gesturing toward his opulent office. "Will you trust me, please?"

Meanwhile, Giana was inspecting the contents of a data pad containing decrypted mission updates in the safe confines of an Intel cell safe house. Unlike Gate's office, there was no artificial gravity here, since the safe house, or rather labourer caste apartment, was located in the bowels of The White Star.

"No, this can't be right," Giana said to Smithy. "It's too bold. Get in touch with Star Colonel Darkstalker and obtain further clarification."

"Huh?!" Smithy snorted incredulously. "You're can't be serious."

"I'm dead serious," Giana responded.

"These are our order," Smithy said. "We carry them out or we die trying."

"Don't worry, hon," Jo said reassuringly while putting a hand on Giana's shoulder. "We'll win this one."

Giana accepted Jo's hand appreciatively by taking it with both her hands and replacing Jo's hand on her lap. In response, Jo gave Giana a gentle kiss on the cheek, and Giana reciprocated by pressing her cheek onto Jo's lips.

Of course, things were different a few days ago. Giana had spurned Jo each time the dyke came on strong, until they both had a showdown of sorts.

Jo was convinced that Giana was a closet lesbian, but Giana kept on denying it. Giana even made nasty jokes of how silly Jo was in trying to force herself on Giana in spite of being spurned over and again.

And that was when Jo had had enough. She began pouncing on Giana as though to make her submit to the fact that she was a lesbian too.

Smithy and the rest tried to break the fight up but Giana told them to stay back, much to everyone's surprise. For, Jo was clearly winning.

'Had enough?' Jo had asked after backhanding Giana across the face and throwing a hard punch into Giana's lower abdomen, causing her to curl into a foetal position in pain.

Giana felt her uterus spasm agonisingly and could hardly breath as a result.

'What's the matter? Can't breathe?' Jo taunted. 'Here, let me give you mouth-to-mouth,' the dyke said as she picked Giana up like a rag doll and pinned her against a bulkhead.

But before kissing Giana on the lips, Jo warned, 'Bite me and I'll kill you.'

She then kissed Giana on the lips, long and hard. And to everyone else's shock, Giana did not fight back. Instead, she began kissing Jo back; gently at first, and then hungrily.

'Alright, show's over,' Smithy said to the rest of the Intel cell, telling them indirectly to leave the apartment.

Jo had already begun to undress Giana.

And as Smithy was closing the apartment door behind him, he said out loud, 'Lesbians are weird.'

A few days later, Giana and Jo were going about as though they had been together for years.

"I'm not worried about losing," Giana said to Jo. "I'm worried about the consequences of our actions. Taking Gates out would have a clan-wide destabilising effect. Either our orders have been compromised or...."

"Or there's something we don't know and can't be privy too," Smithy said, voicing out the obvious. It was in the nature of cell operations for one cell to carry out missions without knowing what other cells were doing.

This was for ensuring that the demise of one cell would not compromise the viability of other cells.

"Alright people," Smithy said to everyone in general. "We do it by the numbers. Anyone who can't keep up gets left behind. Check that you're carrying your cyanides, because I don't want to have to come back and kill you myself."

Smithy was a good leader and while his words were unnecessary, they served to shore up the faith of his cell mates in his sense of judgment. They were also aimed at Jo and Giana, in that regardless of how close the two had become, success of the mission took precedence.

A week later, Giana found herself at the centre of the giant revolving ring which housed the office of CEO Richard Gates. Using access codes obtained from Legion Intel, she and Jo had cleared the access hatch that sealed the automatons that maintained the ring in working order and began taking them off-line one at a time.

That would ensure that what Jo was about to do next would not be countered by any of the automatons. Of course, alarms would go off at the ship's main engineering deck, but it would be a while before a team of engineers could make their way to the centre of the ring.

Without wasting time, Jo took out a gel pack from her waist pouch. It contained a combination of nano-bots and bio-matter that would infect the neurons of the quantum processors that controlled the workings of The White Star's giant revolving rings, including turbo-lifts and refreshers.

The idea was to slow down the response time of The White Star security forces, but not before Smithy and the rest of the Intel cell were in place to commence their assault on Gate's office.

"101 here," Smithy said over the coms. "We're in position."

"6 & 9 here," Jo responded. "The package has been delivered. Moving to intercept."

And with that, Smithy and his team began storming Gate's office.

Disguised as general maintenance labourers, Smithy and the rest managed to slip through main security checkpoints easily. Gate's personal security checkpoint, however, was a different story.

Nearly as large as elementals, Gate's four personal guards wore enforced body armour and helmets, and were almost unstoppable. Even before Smithy could reach Gate's office door, Shirley was blown away by a chain-gun-carrying guard and Maggie was beaten to a pulp by another guard who charged at her with nothing more than an extendable truncheon.

Smithy and the rest of the team reacted by delivering repeated headshots to the near-unstoppable giants.

And just as Smithy cleared Gates' main office doors, he felt like he was in a freefall. While many things around him appeared normal enough, he noticed that some things were beginning to float up to the ceiling.

The giant ring had begun to falter and the artificial gravity was beginning to weaken.
Quickly, Smithy activated his magnetic boots and began planting his feet firmly on whatever flat space he could. And the surviving members of his team followed suit, save one.

Luigi had a gaping chest wound. And there were bubbles frothing at his wound, indicating a punctured lung.

"Charlie, get Luigi out of here," Smithy said.

Charlie nodded, grabbed Luigi by the collar of his white maintenance crew jumpsuit and dragged him away.

And with that, Smithy signalled for the rest to fan out. But before anyone could move, Smithy was shot in the left shoulder repeatedly by someone who was crouching at the ceiling in the rear of Gate's office.

In response, Sam and Andy returned fire with the full fury of their auto-pistols, hitting the assailant several times in the chest and throwing him back.

Regaining his balance, Smithy half-staggered, half-ran toward the downed assailant - it was Gates and he was still alive, if only barely.

"Search the office," Smithy said, while he applied pressure to his shoulder wounds to stop himself from bleeding too much.

"Ashdown isn't here," Sam said.

"That's not possible," Andy said. "He's got to be here," as he continued to trash Gate's office in an attempt to find hidden compartments.

"There isn't enough time," Smithy said. Then, he activated his coms and said, "101 to Cavalry, we're ready to evac."

"Cavalry here," said a female voice over the coms. "We're standing by."

Smithy then pushed off against the floor and attached his magnetic boots on the ceiling area close to Gates. As he crouched, he said to Gates, "We weren't sent here to kill you. You brought this onto yourself."

Smithy then launched himself toward Gates' office doors with Sam and Andy in tow.
And in less than three minutes, they were at the escape pods bay and launching off.

They would not have been able to, if not for Jo and Giana. The two had managed to keep The White Star security reinforcements pinned down.

"Time to go," Giana said.

"Roger that," Jo said, as she got up and launched herself toward an open bulkhead entrance. Once through, she shouted, "Come on!"

Giana got up and launched herself toward Jo, flinching as she did at the sound of ricocheting bullets. Once through the bulkhead entrance, Jo slammed on the bulkhead controls with the butt of her Zeus MKIII assault rifle, damaging the controls in the process, and the bulkhead clamped down tightly with a loud swish.

For good measure, she jammed her rifle into the manual control lever to prevent White Star security from opening the bulkhead manually from the other side.

"Are you hit?" Jo asked in between breaths.

"No," Giana replied in relief.

"Alright! Let's go! Let's go!" Jo prompted Giana as she launched herself in the direction of the escape pods bay.

Giana quickly followed suit.

When they reached the bay, Jo paused in hesitation.

"What's the matter, Jo?" Giana asked.

When Jo turned to face Giana, she aimed her auto-pistol squarely at Giana.

A look of disappointment came over Giana, and then she said "I suspected as much."

"I'm sorry, hon," Jo began to say. "I'm acting under orders."

"Let me guess: Darkstalker?" Giana queried cynically.

"One and the same," Jo affirmed. "And I have a message from the good Star Colonel. 'You wanted to be one of us. Now is the time for you to choose. Duty or passion?'"

"I thought we meant something to one another," Giana said to Jo.

And for the briefest moment, Jo looked sad. Then her expression cleared as she said, "I'll always remember you."

"Kiss me," Giana said.

Jo smirked, detecting trickery.

Giana tossed her auto-pistol aside and spread her hands to indicate submission.

"Please, all I want is a kiss from the woman I have fallen for, and then I'll perform my duty to the clan," Giana assured further.

Jo lowered her aim and moved closer to Giana.

Giana felt her neck strain as she looked Jo in the eyes. The dyke was a foot and a half taller than Giana.

"I'll kill you if you try anything," Jo warned, and then she leaned to kiss Giana on the lips.

But before their lips met, Giana moved with near-lightning speed, stabbing Jo at her body's various pressure points using the hardened tips of her forefingers. It was an ancient Japanese combat technique she had mastered while serving House Kurita as a covert operative.

Jo's eyes widened in shock. Her mouth was agape, as though hollering, but she barely made a sound.

And then her knees buckled, causing her to fall limply sideways in the zero-G environment.

Quickly, Giana grabbed Jo by her ponytail and dragged the dyke into one of the remaining escape pods with her. She then secured the pod's hatch and launched it into open space.

Opening a predetermined com channel, Giana said, "6 & 9 here, we're ready for Cavalry pick-up, over."

No response.

"6 & 9 here, are you there, Cavalry?" Giana queried.

"Cavalry here," said a male voice over the com channel, followed by a long pause. "Stand by," the voice added finally.

Hearing that, Giana held Jo against her and began massaging the dyke at various points on her body. Jo was turning blue at the lips, but inhaled sharply as she regained some of her motor functions. She then coughed uncontrollably.

"What did you do to me?" Jo asked in between coughs.

"Something that would save you from a lifetime of regret," Giana said, and then kissed Jo on the cheek.

Jo pushed her away as she continued to cough violently. But when her coughing fits subsided, she leaned back into Giana's embrace and shut her eyes.

"You're good," Jo said weakly. "You're really good."

Giana snorted and smiled.

"Maybe you can teach me that trick some day," Jo said as she opened her eyes to look at Giana.

"Maybe," Giana said and then kissed Jo passionately on the lips.

Several minutes later, the escape pod Giana and Jo were in was being reeled into the cargo bay of a strikingly familiar Kappa class cargo ship. Its multiple gun turrets were flashing madly in an attempt to keep aerospace fighters at bay.

It was also being aided by unmarked aerospace fighters.

And then there was darkness as the escape pod was swallowed whole by the Kappa class cargo ship.

A few moments later, Giana and Jo felt their ears pop as the cargo bay was being pressurised. Once the pressure had been equalised, the escape pod hatch was popped open from outside.

Standing close by was a security detail with their assault rifles trained on Giana. And next to them was Star Captain Nasser.

"Welcome... home?" Nasser said tentatively.

Jo got out from the escape pod first and then turned to help Giana. When Giana was out, Jo stood protectively between her and the security detail.

Seeing that, Nasser inclined his head to one side and frowned. "You are not one to choose failure over success in your mission, MechWarrior Joanna," Nasser remarked.

"Neg, I did not choose failure," Jo responded. "I was soundly defeated in combat."

"And now you stand as a bondswoman would, protecting her mistress," Nasser added.

"Aff," Jo replied. "And I stand proud."

"Aff," Nasser acknowledged. "Security detail, dismissed," Nasser ordered.

And with that, the Space Urchin Queen security personnel broke ranks and began filing out of the spacious cargo bay.

"Shall we?" Nasser said, as he gestured to the exit.

As they began to walk, Giana took Jo by the hand and asked, "So, how did you get involved in this?"

"Huh!" Jo snorted and smirked. "I was bored beating other warriors - male warriors - to a pulp."

Several minutes later, Giana and Jo were at Nasser's ready room. And waiting, was Star Colonel Darkstalker.

"Please wait outside, MechWarrior Joanna," Darkstalker ordered.

Jo was about to acknowledge the order with a nod when Giana intervened and said, "I would rather have her stay, Star Colonel."

"You and I have unfinished business that must be discussed in private," Darkstalker said and then signalled for Jo to leave.

"MechWarrior Joanna, please stay," Giana countermanded while remaining considerate and polite to Jo. "What is the matter, Dark? You cannot stand the competition? She was more 'man' than you, and could do what you could not."

"You are way off!" Darkstalker retorted angrily.

"Aaaah, I can see where this is going," Nasser said. "I will leave you three lovebirds alone to sort out your little love triangle. Call me when you are done," added Nasser, as he walked out the ready room door.

"I had to know," Darkstalker pressed on.

"And so, you sent Jo after me," Giana stated and smirked.

"It would not have worked with another man," Darkstalker reasoned. "I had to be sure."

"Be sure about what? That I am a lesbian or that I am loyal?" Giana asked coyly.

Darkstalker frowned and shook his head a little in confusion. "Look, I had a mission to accomplish and I saw the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. So, I sent you, and then I sent Joanna after you," Darkstalker started to blabber. "You two... fell in love, which was alright considering the circumstances, and then you brought her back when you could have killed her and betray the clan in revenge."

"You are starting to not make sense, Star Colonel."

"Look, I am trying... trying to...," Darkstalker began to fumble.

"To apologise?" Giana asked.

"Aff," Darkstalker affirmed.

"Come out with it then," Giana stated plainly.

"Alright. Giana, I love you and I am sorry," Darkstalker said firmly. "I had to choose between duty and passion. And I chose duty."

"And you chose well," Giana said.

Hearing that, Darkstalker's constipated expression changed to one of relief.

"I also hope that this clears any lingering doubt regarding my loyalty to the clan," Giana added.

"It does," Darkstalker said quickly. "I have been authorised by Khan Voltage to accept you into the Warrior ranks and award you further with the field commission of Star Commander, befitting your covert experience and warrior skills."

"Pheeew!" Jo whistled out loud. "From a turn-coat, to a Warrior, to a Star Commander. I am going to have to start calling you 'sir' from now own."

"You had better not, Jo," Giana quipped. "And one other thing: I am not a lesbian."

In hearing that, both Jo and Darkstalker became wide-eyed. Then, they looked at each other and said in unison, "But you are not my type," in respect of each other.

"We will settle that later," Giana said as she turned to leave. "Please come with me, MechWarrior Joanna. We have some unfinished business to settle," Giana added as she exited the Captain's ready room.

"Aff, Star Commander," Jo replied in mock respect. She then stood at attention, nodded at Darkstalker and left the ready room as well.

Back at The White Star, Ashdown was on the mammoth ship's bridge giving last minute instructions to the Merchant caste capital ship's captain. Ashdown had escaped death by hiding in a secret compartment in the ceiling of Gates' office.

Gates' last words still rang in his ears: "I guess I was wrong. We should have moved earlier. Do it, before it's too late... and don't let House of Gates fall."

'Easier said than done,' Ashdown thought to himself. All throughout the fleet, Gates' special crack teams were trying their level best to take over key Merchant caste ships, but to no avail.

Legion Intelligence was well prepared. Although the special crack teams were good, they were overwhelmed by sheer force of numbers.

Even at that moment, Dreaded Legion aerospace fighters were clashing with the Merchant caste aerospace assets secretly stocked and managed by Gates for the protection of The White Star and other Merchant caste ships commandeered by the crack teams. However, although skill for skill, the genetically enhanced Merchant caste pilots equally matched the Legion's space warriors who fought them, they were being overwhelmed as well, albeit slowly.

"Sir," The White Star captain called out to Ashdown. "We're being hailed... by Khan Voltage from the Attica."

"Put him through," Ashdown acknowledged calmly.

Almost immediately, Voltage's oversized disembodied head appeared on The White Star's main holovid display.

"Chief Ashdown," Voltage said without preamble. "Where do you think you are going?"

"Away from here; away from you," Ashdown replied confidently.

"Come, come now, Ashdown," Voltage responded patronisingly. "The White Star is an over-sized, over-glorified tub, and one that is poorly defended too."

"On the contrary my Khan, you can't stop me from reaching the jump-point this ship is headed toward," Ashdown retorted.

"Oh, but I can," Voltage asserted confidently. "And no matter where you run, I can still get you."

"Alright, you can, but you won't," Ashdown countered.

"Oh? And why is that?" Voltage asked, feinting ignorance.

"Because you'd be responsible for the death of hundreds and thousands of people aboard this ship, including innocent women and children," Ashdown warned and smirked. "And when word gets around that you were responsible for dispatching a death squad to assassinate both Gates and I, the death of hundreds of thousands aboard The White Star would become proof that you were indeed responsible, no matter what you say to the contrary."

"It is not me who is threatening to activate The White Star's self destruct mechanism," Voltage countered evenly.

"Huh!" Ashdown snorted. "What difference would it make? You'd still be doing it by proxy, just like you did when you sent your assassins to kill Gates."

Voltage kept silent.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock keeps ticking, counting down the seconds before The White Star makes its jump to the Inner Sphere," Ashdown continued, taunting Voltage further. "So, what will it be? Oh, what will it be, great Khan of the Dreaded Legion?"

Just then, Voltage could be seen looking at someone beyond the scope of the holovid display cameras on Voltage's end, and then The White Star's main holovid display went dark.

"Sir! Legion aerospace fighters, bombers and shock troop landing crafts are breaking off and retreating," announced The White Star captain excitedly.

And then, Voltage's disembodied head reappeared on the main holovid display.

"It did not have to be this way, you know," Voltage said.

"Oh, but it did," Ashdown countered doggedly. "You do what you have to, and I do what I have to."

"Aff," Voltage acknowledged. "But I do what I do for the good of the clan. What you are doing is purely for selfish reasons."

"Oh, really?" Ashdown asked cynically. "You know, if you say that often enough, you might just convince yourself."

"T minus 50 seconds to jump-point," announced The White Star captain.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, my Khan," Ashdown said coyly. "And if I ever see you again, it would be too soon. Ta-ta!" he added and waved, and then signalled for the holovid link to be cut.

"T minus 40 seconds," announced the captain.

"Recall all our aerospace fighters," Ashdown ordered. "I don't want any of them left behind. There's no telling who we'll be facing in Inner Sphere space. If we're lucky, it won't be Clan Wolf in Exile."

Moving over to the bridge's communications console, Ashdown said to the tech manning the console, "I want to send a message to Legion Intel, for the attention of Kell Hounds Operative Giana."

"Aye, sir," said the coms tech, as he passed his headset to Ashdown. "Recording," he added.

"Well, congratulations Giana," Ashdown began as saying into the communication console's video recorder. "There I was trying to lead you into a trap, but instead of being the innocent lamb on its way to the slaughter, you became a wolf and lunged at my jugular vein. Well done, indeed. A word of caution, though. Voltage isn't all about dignity and integrity. So, don't be surprised if it turns out that your new master and his lackeys are no better than the Inner Sphere masters whom you used to serve. Sincerely, Deep-throat."

"Message sent," said the coms tech.

"Sir," the ship's captain called out. "All remaining aerospace fighters accounted for."

"Let's go, then," Ashdown ordered.

"Aye," the captain acknowledged, as he activated the ship-wide klaxons. He then announced over the city-ship's public address system, "This is the captain. Prepare for jump in 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, jumping."

And then The White Star appeared to stretch out to infinity before disappearing in a blink of an eye.

A fraction of a second later, it reappeared in Lyrian space, and into the waiting arms of a Kell Hounds space armada.

Back at the Light Carrier Attica, "Do we pursue, my Khan?" queried Star Admiral Alexandria.

"Neg, we cannot win them all," Voltage said, while shaking his head in emphasis. "Inform Stealth Elemental Transports Alpha and Beta to stand down, and recall Stealth Wings Alpha and Beta," Voltage ordered.

"Aff, my Khan," Alexandria acknowledged.

Turning to face Tech 3rd Class Annabelle who was manning the bridge's communications console, Voltage ordered, "Open a secure link to Kell Hounds commander Morgan Kell. I think it is time we put an end to his little ruse."

"Aff, my Khan," Annabelle acknowledged.

A moment later, Morgan Kell's disembodied head appeared on the Attica's main holovid display.

"Commander Kell," Voltage said, as he nodded respectfully.

"Khan Voltage," the Kell Hounds commander acknowledged and reciprocated with a respectful nod as well.

"As you can see, I have only lost a tiny fraction of my Merchant caste," Voltage said without more. "You are most welcome to it."

Kell kept silent and remained stoic in expression.

"It is most odd that your Prince Victor deems it necessary to make us more desperate than we are already," Voltage continued. "The tasks he has planned for the Dreaded Legion must be so horrendous that he needed to resort to extreme subterfuge."

"The opportunity came knocking," Kell said in earnest. "We did not actively seek it."

"Nevertheless, you took advantage of it," Voltage countered.

"You would not have done the same?" Kell asked rhetorically.

"Perhaps," Voltage replied noncommittally. "Regardless, I think it is time that you tell me what your Prince would have the Dreaded Legion do."

The legendary mercenary commander inhaled deeply as though to gather his thoughts before speaking. And when he spoke, he sounded grave and somewhat remorseful. "As you may be aware, Clan Jade Falcon has seized the opportunity to launch a determined offensive into the Lyrian Alliance, destroying forces on both sides of the Federated Commonwealth civil war," Kell explained. "It is a daring move by Khan Pryde, but Prince Victor has formed and executed his own daring plan - to hold the Falcons in check on the worlds they have already conquered and unleash a massive force deep inside Clan space with the mission to cut the Falcon offensive off at its core."

"And you want us to lend a hand, quiaff?" Voltage asked. And then realisation dawned on him, upon which he said, "Neg, you want the Dreaded Legion to take the brunt of the Jade Falcon counter attack."

"Regretfully, yes," Kell affirmed.

"And how would you have us do that?" Voltage asked.

"We want you to jump for Mogyorod and reinforce the Lyrian Alliance Guards that are under siege by a Jade Falcon trinary," Kell said.

"Mogyorod will be our new home, quiaff?" Voltage queried.

"Affirmative," Kell replied. "Provided you can hold it."

"Sweeping aside a Jade Falcon trinary only to incur the full wrath of Khan Marthe Pryde...," Voltage thought aloud. "Tell me, Commander Kell. Do you intend for us to succeed, or have you actively planned for us to fail?"

"Good warriors plan for as many contingencies as possible," Kell responded evenly. "We do what we must."

"Aff," Voltage acknowledged. "And so we shall."

Hearing that, Kell nodded respectfully. He was well aware that Voltage was no fool.

And under different circumstances, Kell and Voltage could have been real comrades-in-arms. Instead, they worked against each other, almost as much as they did with each other, in order to gain the upper hand, and thus continue to second-guess each other's motives.

"You are a worthy adversary, Khan Voltage," Kell said. "Perhaps one day, we can become real comrades. Detailed mission objectives and intel to follow."

And with that, Kell's disembodied head was replaced by the Kell Hounds marquee and a small three dimensional revolving cube showed encrypted data being downloaded onto the Attica's ancillary databases.

The mood on the Attica bridge was pensive and it showed on almost every bridge officer's expression. Especially bad was how Star Admiral Alexandria looked.

Seeing that, Voltage quipped, "You look like how I feel, Star Admiral."

Alexandria smiled and laughed lightly at that. "We are so close to the end-game, my Khan. There is a lot to consider," she said.

"Indeed, Alexandria," Voltage said kindly. "I shall be in my ready room. Please inform me when Star Colonel Darkstalker arrives along with the heads of the great Merchant caste houses."

"Aff, my Khan," Alexandria acknowledged.

About an hour later, Voltage was at the head of the Attica's senior officer's conference room, staring down at each of the heads of the great Merchant caste houses. Noticeably absent was the representative of House of Gates, as most of its members had escaped aboard The White Star.

"It has come to my knowledge that, over several years, influential members of your respective houses have been stealing genetic materials from the sacred genetic repository of the Warrior caste," Voltage began.

And hearing that, most of the heads of the great Merchant caste houses began fidgeting and squirming in their seats.

But before any of them could speak, Voltage pressed on by saying, "And today, we have seen the results of that first hand: genetically enhanced Merchant men and women fighting furiously against the men and women of the Warrior caste. This was not how our forebears intended us to be. The caste system was meant to create synergy, not mutual destruction."

"And yet, there is oppression," Karl Jung of House of Jung interjected.

"No system is perfect, Master Jung," Voltage countered.

"With respect, my Khan, it is clearly oppression when members of the Warrior caste assassinate CEO Richard Gates with impunity," Jung said, without letting up.

"Is that so?" Voltage asked rhetorically. "And where is the proof?"

Hearing that, Jung caste his eyes downward and smiled, and then said, "Belief is often stronger than proof, my Khan. Who has the most to gain from Gate's demise?"

"It is interesting that you should ask that, Master Jung," Voltage said. "But before we get into that, I must warn each and everyone of you that if you do not get your houses in order, I will be forced to declare martial law and take martial possession of your assets for general administration."

Hearing that, a few representatives turned pale, while others looked angry. Jung, however, kept his composure neutral.

"My Khan, that is most unwise," Jung said.

"Oh?" Voltage asked cynically. "I think that if I were to dig deep enough, I would find exactly who is responsible for all the gene stealing that has been going on. And by virtue of the fact that you are all vicariously liable for the actions of the members of your great houses, I see no reason why I should not simply arrest all of you here and now."

"And invite an open revolt?" Jung asked. And it was his turn to be cynical. "It was bad enough that House of Gates mutinied, along with prominent members of the Labourer caste. An open revolt can only be crushed with brute force, and while I have no doubt about to the prowess of the Warrior caste members in doing so, the Dreaded Legion would be ground to a halt."

"That was exactly the conclusion I had reached, Master Jung," Voltage said, almost coyly. "When buttons are pushed, we react, and sometimes, we forget to ask why."

Hearing that, Jung looked genuinely puzzled. This was not the direction he thought the argument would take.

"All the genetic enhancements that have become fashionable among the lower caste members pale in significance compared to the enormity of Richard Gates' actions," Voltage continued. "He took the best of what the Merchant and Labourer castes had to offer and turned them into his private army. The audacity of the man was such that he operated right under your noses without any real fear of being discovered. And I know that Gates had many enemies."

Noticing that many of the representatives were beginning to stir even more uncomfortably, Voltage continued, "Oh, do not worry. My investigations showed that none of you were smart enough or, I should say, dumb enough to partake in Gates' mutinous conspiracy, inadvertently or otherwise."

Voltage paused to let what he said sink in, and then he quipped, "So, there will be no summary trials and executions today."

Naturally, none of the great house representatives were amused.

Regardless, Voltage pressed on by saying, "Gates needed Morgan Kell's backing, and got it, but Kell is much too smart to think that Gates' plans would actually work. So, he instructed his operative, who, by the way, has high security clearance, to secret more operatives into the Merchant caste and, finally, conduct the assassination of Gates, thereby throwing the Dreaded Legion into disarray. Kell has no use for members of the Merchant caste other than as pawns for his end-game."

Jung snorted in disbelief and then said sceptically, "That is an interesting theory, my Khan."

"But you do not believe me, quiaff?" Voltage cut Jung off. Looking at the faces of the other representatives, it was clear that none of them believed Voltage either. "Well, that is why proof is always stronger than belief, Master Jung. The Kell Hounds operative responsible for Gates' assassination is currently in custody and is, at this very moment, being interrogated thoroughly by Legion Intelligence."

Jung smirked in response but said nothing.

"My Khan," Peter Rowland of House of Rowland called out, after mustering the courage to, finally. "You will have to forgive our... scepticism. You have to give us more than that, if we are to return to our people - your people - and convince them that you have nothing but their best interest at heart."

"Aff," Voltage acknowledged. "And I have just the thing. Please recall the case of Clan vs Bridge Tech 1st Class Annabelle. She was found guilty under current clan laws that prohibit sexual relations between members of different castes. More significantly, she was found guilty of stealing genes from the Warrior caste gene repository. She was found innocent of conspiring to traffic stolen genes, however. On the first guilty count, she was sentenced to life imprisonment with no chance of probation. On the second guilty count, she has been sentenced to death by lethal injection. I have commuted both sentences and reinstated Annabelle as a bridge officer of the Light Carrier Attica. While I have not reinstated her rank, I have awarded her the rank of Bridge Tech 3rd Class. She is a fine non-commissioned bridge officer and will regain her old rank in due course.

"More importantly, the reason why I have commuted her sentence is because I have decided to repeal the laws that had gotten Annabelle into trouble in the first place, using the powers given to me by the Clan Emergency Powers Act," Voltage continued. "There is no sense in punishing someone when the laws that she had contravened are no longer in effect. Specifically, I am repealing the laws pertaining to inter-caste sexual relations. Regardless of caste, Legionnaires are hereby permitted to form sexual bonds, except prostitution. Should there be offspring as a result of such sexual bonds, the offspring belongs to the higher caste. In one fell swoop, this would ease the tension between members of different castes who cannot help but ‘fall in love’, as well as provide hope for those who aspire for their children to have better fates than theirs."

And then Voltage paused to gauge the expression of each and every great house representative. 'So far so good,' Voltage thought to himself.

"Also, I am initiating an effort to codify laws that would allow any member of a lower caste to become a member of a higher caste should he or she wish it,” Voltage continued. “In the past, promotion to higher castes was based on unwritten laws founded on clan tradition. But do not think that caste elevation will be easy. It has traditionally been difficult for very good reasons and will remain difficult. The difference is that elevation would be more clearly governed by written laws and not by individual whim."

And with that, Voltage asked, "Any question?"

"Aff, my Khan," Jung said. "Just one. Annabelle's son. Where is he right now?"

"He is being cared for as any fledgling sibkin would," Voltage replied.

"Thank you, my Khan," Jung said. "That is all I needed to know."

"Anything else?" Voltage asked. And when no further questions were raised, Voltage said, “So, please tell your people – my people - that, based on my treatment of Annabelle’s case, I still have the best interest of everyone, regardless of caste, at heart; and that I have not forgotten my own humble roots. I am the people’s Khan.”

“Seyla!!” affirmed all the heads of the great Merchant caste houses in unison.

And then Voltage announced, "With the mutinous demise of Richard Gates and, for all intents and purposes, House of Gates, I am appointing Karl Jung of House of Jung as Chief Executive Officer of the Merchant caste. And this is especially appropriate considering that he was the only one with enough courage to conduct a meaningful exchange with me from the very beginning of this conference."

Immediately, Jung stood at attention and bowed respectfully.

"I am also appointing Peter Rowland of House of Rowland as Deputy Chief Executive Officer of the Merchant caste," Voltage announced. "Seeing how you managed to muster the courage to speak up, belatedly or otherwise, you will be assisting Master Jung in the reconstruction of the Merchant caste."

Hearing that, Rowland stood at attention and bowed as well.

"Do not disappoint me," Voltage said to everyone, and it was obviously a veiled threat.

About a month later, the entire Dreaded Legion fleet arrived at Mogyorod. The Lyrian Alliance Guards garrisoning the planet had been defeated by the vastly superior Jade Falcon trinary and what remained of the Guards had been scattered.

Considering how greatly outnumbered the Jade Falcons were, Voltage offered to observe clan rules of combat, including batchall and zelbrigen, but the commander of the Jade Falcon trinary would have nothing of that. Convinced that Voltage would not keep to his word because of his "scum-filth" status as the Jade Falcon commander had put it so unimaginatively, she said that she and her fellow Falcons would rather die than treat pirate clanners as equals.

"So be it," said Voltage. "Expect no mercy."

Within days, Dreaded Legion forces had taken major continents on the mostly arid planet of Mogyorod. Like the Lyrian Alliance Guards before them, the Jade Falcons were scattered and on the run.

Unused to guerrilla warfare, many of the Jade Falcons found themselves cut off from their supplies and eventually became battle ineffective. They had no choice but to hide until Jade Falcon reinforcements arrived.

And arrive, they did, barely a month after the arrival of the Dreaded Legion fleet. What was more, the Jade Falcon fleet was nearly twice the strength of the Dreaded Legion fleet.

"And the real fight begins," Voltage said as a prelude to his War Council session with his senior officers. "Hopefully, our own reinforcements would arrive in time."

Chapter 13: End Game