Morgana                                by: Maggie Finson

 

PART 3

 

CHAPTER 6 - THE FORGE

I sat idly waiting for my traveling companion of several days to make her appearance, stirring the ice in my emptied out glass with a finger while thoughtfully reviewing all that she had told me so far. None of it made sense while it all made more sense than I was willing to admit. Only someone with NTF training and experience could have turned the tides of war so completely against the Federation in such a short time.

My name is Colonel Curtis Shapiro, and I was the dubious recipient of both my worst enemy’s and best friend’s expertise in battle. The NTF had gotten their asses kicked but good on Kirkus IV, or Pegasii as the Cheryii called that gods forsaken hunk of earth orbiting a star that Humanity -- in the form of the omnipresent NTF -- coveted. I had been unfortunate to have been both lucky and skilled enough to get myself and my troops, plus a few other stragglers we’d picked up along the way, back to the LZ during that bloody debacle.

As one of the few suriving senior officers that had been on planet, I now faced a court martial for misconduct in the face of the enemy and failure to carry out duly issued orders. As if God himself could have taken that damned planet away from the Elves - Cheryii - who had gleefully sprung their insidious trap and slaughtered over half a million good troops. Hell, I had been doing well to hold my broken command together and get the survivors back to the relative safety of the defended LZ.

What had I gotten for busting my poor, worn out ass for my troops? Arrested. And confined aboard an I. G. ship bound for New Terra so I could be tried before a panel of my peers -- fat chance of that, as the Inspector General’s office would make damned sure I stood before a hostile panel of judges -- then swiftly executed as an example to both citizenry and troops who had become dangerously restive following the disaster at Kirkus IV.

Then, just for spice, I was confined with the one being I had originally possessed no wish to become intimate with. The very architect of my downfall, Morgana-Iey-Sylvanus-A"chddra’im of the Cheryii Warrior Clan Yllar’ium. The sworn and bitter enemy of all the NTF stood for, and incidentally, the once human changeling who had been my best friend during our years at Academy.

Well, it passed the time, I had to admit, and was fascinating in many ways as she related the tale of her eventual metamorphosis from one hell of pilot and soldier into the nemesis of all NTF forces trying to force our way past the Cheryii and into the heart of our galaxy. She was still one hell of a pilot and soldier. Only now she was on the other side. And, God help me, I respected and admired her, even was beginning to care for her. War is hell, the old saying goes, and I can’t argue that one at all. I’m fighting one inside even as I set this narration down for whoever might be interested.

The slight rustle of clothing and a faint spicy scent let me know the cause of my inner conflict had returned to the common room. I looked up to see her regarding me with a thoughtful expression that slowly turned into a small smile

"You look tired, Curt,"

"Couldn’t sleep," I shrugged, moving away from the comp console to take a chair in the room’s center grouping. "Too much to think about, I guess."

"When, do you think," she changed the subject after giving me a weary look of her own, "we will reach New Terra?"

"Given the fact that this ship is a comandeered pleasure yacht, even burdened with extra armor now, and the the Captain has orders to take a little traveled route that is more of an arc than a straith line journey," I answered carefully, troubled that she had asked the question with no more concern than would a tourist inquiring the ETA of a commercial liner to its destination from the chief steward. "Even a fast courier ship, which this one isn’t, would take at least several weeks to make the trip from the Inner Edge to New Terra. We’ve been enroute for about three days now, so I’d figure another three weeks on the inside, possibly as long as four."

"That is approximately the estimation I made from the available data," she nodded in what appeared to be satisfaction. "It will be more than enough time."

"Time for what?"

"Not just now, my old friend," brushing a strand of shining white/gold hair off her face, she gave me that maddening secret smile it seems women of every race and species are so adept at using. "For now, I think you are ready to hear more of my tale, aren’t you?"

"Yes," running a hand through my hair, grown out of the short burr I usually wore during the last campaign and my captivity, I waved vaguely towards the kitchen/bar. "Why don’t we have some breakfast while you get started?"

"That sounds like a fine idea, who’s turn is it to cook?"

"Mine," getting up with a small sigh, I moved to the selections board and punched in several choices on the menu, with an inquiring glance to see if my choices met with her approval, then set the steaming plates of scrambled eggs, rye bread toast with strawberry preserves, and crisp bacon with a pot of coffee for me and tea for her on the low table between our respective chairs.

We ate in silence for a few minutes, each involved in our own thoughts. Mine revolved around the slim, lovely enigma seated across from me. No matter how often we had talked, shared time in the common room, or how much of her story I had heard, she remained a mystery to me. I had no more idea of her motives than I had when we were first thrown together. Or had the slightest clue about when, if ever, those wouuld become clear to me.

Once the meal had been finished, she leaned forward a bit and gave me a look I almost swore was wistful. "Now, that our fast has been broken, shall I continue the story?"

"You know what my answer is." I still found myself mesmerised by her presence, and found myself leaning forward a little to decrease the distance between us with a glance at the monitoring cameras our keepers were likely watching us with. "I’m sure that our ‘hosts’ are anxiously waiting for you to continue, too."

"Doubtless," with a chuckle, Morgana gave one of the cams a wink then a very human extended middle finger. "I hope they find it instructive."

* * * *

The following months were both informative and frustrating for Morgana, as she overcame her now largely useless male sensibilities and New Terran outlook on life in general. Not that either was nearly so simple as it sounds; there were many incidents involving tears, outright anger at new circumstances, and grief for a life lost beyond retrieval.

In contrast, a new life was opening up for her like a hardy, early spring blossom. The concepts of Yeesh’aan became clearer to her as her studies progressed and in time, Sylvanus’ new daughter had become a very proficient healer in the simpler things like broken bones, illness, and childbirth. Healing of the mind and spirit were still beyond her abilities, and according to her sister, Maeve, would remain so until she managed to heal her own.

In the meantime, the newest addition to the Chaddra’im family was being introduced to the ruling class of Sylvan through formal dinners, informal gatherings, and just from being seen at her healings and other mundane tasks involved with her household responsibilities.

It was during one of these functions, an informal garden party for higher ranking officers in the Warrior Clan that she first met Currain. Currain-Iey-Barltress-A"Teerent’t-of the Warrior Clan Yllar’ium.

Still not entirely comfortable in the flowing, ankle length formal gowns favored by Cheryii females, or with the idea of her own femininity, Morgana nevertheless bowed to accepted convention for the sake of appearances. Mostly because of the constant urging from Maeve, and Ivaine along with some very unsubtle prodding from the AI, Celeste.

Having given in once again to the incessent pressure of her female family members, she presented herself to the gathering in a simple, snugly fitted deep violet gown of irridescent Freyna Silk that left a fairly embarrassing amoung of cleavage and pale globes of breasts in view. After swearing to herself that she wouldn’t give in to the prodding of Maeve, Ivaine, or Celeste - especially Celeste - one more time.

"I don’t know why I let you three talk me into these things," she groused while plucking at the neckline of the gown in an effort to pull it up a fraction of an inch more than it was designed for.

"You look very lovely," Maeve grinned, clad in similar fashion and gesturing to the other ladies present. "Have a look at some of the others here, sister. Your own gown is positively demure compared to some I see."

"Much as I hate admitting this," daintily picking a piece of fruit off her plate, the former human brought it to her mouth and nibbled in a very feminine manner before going on. "I’m glad Celeste isn’t completely a slave to current fashions. I’d probably freeze to death in some of those things."

"You’ll change that tune," Maeve chuckled, "When high summer arrives. "Then you’ll likely be clamouring for even less than that."

Giving the indicated garment, a wispy, almost transparent thing that showed far more of the lady wearing it than might have been wise, given the abundance of males in attendance, another once over, Morgana snorted.

"Might as well be completely naked. And I don’t think so."

"My sister the prude,"

"I’m doing well to just show up in public dressed like this," came the almost growled reply as Morgana gave her bodice another sereptitious, useless tug.

"You’re actually doing quite well, little sister," Maeve crinkled her eyes in a quick, teasing grin. "You do seem to attract your share of male admirers at these gatherings."

"Please," the other protested with a long, drawn out sigh, "don’t remind me. I feel as if I need a whip and chair at times."

"Ah, no worry, beautiful one," an unfamiliar voice responded to her use of a Terran expression. "You should have no trouble getting any of these lions to eat out of your delicate hand and have any of us purring quite contetedly as we do."

Morgana pulled her attention away from what the other ladies were wearing to turn towards the owner of the voice, only to stop a sharp retort before it passed her lips. "Ahh..."

"I think he was complimenting you little sister," Maeve nudged her with a gentle elbow. "It would only be polite of you to thank him, you know,"

"Oh," kicking herself, at least mentally, for sounding so wonderfully intelligent, Morgana gave the imposing young male a sunny smile and a nod while holding out a half eaten piece of her apple. "Thank you.

Have some fruit?"

"Terran apple," the fellow grinned, "One of my favorites. Do you expect me to eat it out of your hand?"

"While you purr," she replied with a chuckle.

"I will do my best, M’Lady,"

"Hmm," Maeve looked another direction to hide her own grin. "I think I see someone I wish to speak with over there. If you two will excuse me?"

Distracted in spite of an inner voice screaming for her to run, that she wasn’t ready to accept even the opening steps in the complex courtship dance of the Cheryii, the once human, and no longer male daughter of a warrior clan only nodded in response while wondering why she had said that to the fellow.

* * * *

Currain-Iey-Barltress-A"Teerent’t became a regular visitor to the Chaddr’im household following that first meeting. Akward as Morgaine felt with actually receiving such exclusive male attention, she very slowly realized that there was nothing wrong with it. In fact, there was something very right between the two of them.

"Mother," Morgana approached Ivaine wearing a troubled expression, "Could we talk for a few minutes?"

"For as long as wish, dear one," Ivaine patted the couch she was seated on to indicate her newest daughter should sit down next to her. "What is it?"

"Currain,"

"Ah," the elder female nodded with a small smile. "And what is it about this young one that has you so confused?"

"I... I don’t know quite how to explain it," Drawing in a breath, Morgana closed her eyes, searching for a way to express herself. "I am not so much confused as frightened, and disturbed whenever he is around."

"Do you wish for him to stay away?"

"Oh, no!" surprised by her own vehemence over that question, the younger lady blushed, then lowered her eyes in embarrassment. "I... want him around, a lot. It’s almost as if I had known him all my life, and he seems to have the same feelings about me. The experience is uncanny, unsettling, and one I have never heard of."

"I see," Ivaine smiled while gently patting her daughter’s leg. "Well, I felt the same way when I first met Sylvanus. You have found your Life-Companion, dear one."

"Life-Companion?" Morgana straightened in the seat, turning to give Ivaine a troubled look. "Do you mean my future husband?"

"Husband is your Terran and Human heritage speaking," Ivaine informed her. "Life-Companion is far more than that. You could have had many Companions already, had you chosen to accept the young males’ advances. I understand why you haven’t, but where a Companion is something that may last a week, as much as years, or as little as one evening, a Life-Companion is something both rare and precious."

"Something like a soul mate?" Morgana shifted again, clearly not comfortable with the idea, but beginning to understand. "Humans have a belief that one person is the other half of their soul, and the lucky few who find that other are happy beyond description when they are joined."

"That is fairly accurate," Ivaine agreed with a soft smile. "Though a Life-Companion is also half of your life itself. You know when that one is well, or in danger, or ill, and many other things he or she experiences. It would be a pity to discard the opportunity given to you for this experience, both for yourself and Currain."

"I’m not ready!"

"Then he will wait until you are, sweetling," Ivaine leaned forward to give her dughter a light peck on the cheek. "Because if he is truly your Life-Companion, he will know that your are not ready without being told."

"I need to think about this,"

"Of course you do," Ivaine agreed. "Something like this comes once in a lifetime for most, and not even then for some. But you must be certain you are prepared for the commitment such a union would entail. I unerstand how your relative newness to our people and most especially your changed gender and sex might be holding you back right now. Go as slowly and carefully as you wish, dear one. Currain will understand more than you seem to believe just now."

* * * *

Currain-Iey-Barltress-A"Teerent’t was patient, attentive, charming, and unassuming in a way that was at odds with his reputation as a warrior and leader. Morgana found herself drawn to him constantly, with a warm tingling in her middle just at the thought of him. The warmth and well being she felt when with him was difficult to argue with at all. The last bastions of her old male self were eroding rapidly under the assault of all too female emotions and needs, though the changeling found that almost as uncomfortable as when she had first awakened to find how she had been changed.

"So," Maeve questioned with a twinkle in her bright green eyes. "When are you going to give in to the inevitable and join with Currain?"

"Sooner than my poor brain likes," the younger of the pair responded a bit glumly. "My body and spirit are screaming ‘Yes!’ While my intellect still insists that I was a male too recently to do such a thing. I don’t wish to unload all that bagage on Currain."

‘Have you spoken to him about it?"

"Yes," Morgana sighed while tossing down the piece of embroidery she had been working on at her sister’s insistence. "I guess I just wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing."

"Which kind of thing?" Maeve questioned with mischief in her eyes. "The embroidery, or being a lovely, desirable female?"

"Uh, both. I guess, but definitely the embroidery thing."

"Embroidery soothes me and helps me think," Maeve responded. "It doesn’t do the same for everyone.

Mother can’t stand doing it either, if that’s any help. As for the female part of this question...

The important part, I believe," Maeve continued with a hand lightly placed over Morgana’s lips to halt any interruptions. "Yeshaan chose your sex, little sister. It was no deliberate thing to make you uncomfortable. The forces that healed and transformed your body decided that you were meant to be female, and would be better as one. Regardless of what you believe in your heart, that is true. So my advice is to get used to it, grab Currain with both arms, both legs, and make the pair of you deleriously happy, then get on with living. That was what your transformation was about, after all, to allow you to live on."

"I..."

"No more of this fence sitting, little sister," Maeve countered quickly. "You have to get over what you consider to be losses and move on to what will be positive gains. Currain is one of those positive things, a very positive thing for you, and don’t even try denying it. I’ve seen how you look at him, watch when you think he isn’t aware of it, and to put it simply, you have been a terrrible grump lately. Father will be back in two days, ask him to give his blessing and make the union that your spirit is pining for. Or I have had the last of your ‘being a girl’ problems."

"All right," giving the embroidery she had been been working on a rueful look, Morgana handed it to Maeve. "Maybe you can salvage this, I sure don’t think I can."

"That is a task worthy of a goddess," Maeve laughed, rising to give her little sister a hug. "You certainly are not ‘cut out’ for that kind of busy work. Join with Currain and find something that suits you, darling.

For his sake if not your own. The poor fellow is going half crazy over you."

"I Said I would, didn’t I?" Morgana returned the laugh with one of her own, feeling lighter of spirit than she had in months.

"Good."

* * * *

"Can you help her, Lady?" Morgana still twitched internally when someone addressed her in that manner, but turned to give the worried mother a genuinely warm smile

"Oh, I think I can take care of this," the once human daughter of the ruling family on Sylvan nodded with an encouraging grin and wink for the injured child she had been called to examine. "No more climbing trees for a while, Leilia, especially when you’re wearing skirts, all right, imp?"

"I wuh wuh wuh won’t," the child promised with a small whimper of pain while reaching for her swollen and inflamed knee.

"Now you’re going to need to be brave for a moment or two," Maorgana cautioned the girl while placing her own hands over the injured joint. "while I go inside your knee and put things back where they belong, can you do that?"

"Uh, huh," Leilia nodded, fighting back the tears of near agony.

"I’ll take the pain away in a moment, little one," reaching to cup the child’s injured knee in both hands, the Lady Healer closed her eyes and sent her mind into the outraged joint where she shunted the pain impulses to her own knee. Working very hard not to wince with the fiery agony shooting up and down her own leg, Morgana realigned the twisted joint in her mind’s eye, settled torn and stretched ligament and muscle back into their proper positions, and willed it to be so.

With vision that reached farther into the infrared than human, she noted with satisfaction that both her slender hands had taken on a slight yellow glow and felt the abused joint return to a normal, healthy configuration. The pain in her own knee diminished as that happened and she nodded in real pleasure as it completely vanished.

"There, now," stroking the little girl’s sweat slick forehead with one hand while the other was writing on a comp pad, she smiled up at the still worried, but relieved mother. "All better now, darling. You just have to remember not to do more than walk on it for a day or so and everything will be just fine.

Take these ingredients," sending what she had been writing on her own pad to the other adult’s, Morgana smiled at both mother and child, "make a salve with them, and liberally coat the joint then wrap it loosely in soft cloth and your daughter will be good as new in several days."

"Thank you, Lady," the mother was in tears, of relief and happiness, "I have no way to repay you for this, other than with my heartfelt thanks."

"That will be more than enough," with a chuckle, while ruffling the child’s hair, the Lady gave the little girl a conspirational wink. "Pay me by keeping Leilia out of trees for the next week or so."

The hug she received from the child, and the mother, filled her with more joy and sense of accomplishment than Michael Morgan had ever known.

* * * *

"You are really quite remarkable," Currain observed as they left the small gathering of family and friends at the Chddra’im estate and walked slowly towards the small lake that Morgana had become so fond of.

"Oh, not really," she responded, accepting the other’s arm around her slim waist without so much as a mental flinch.

"I disagree, My Lady," Currain grinned, tightening his grasp around her waist. "You have won the hearts of everyone who has ever met you, are a Healer of some note even in a family renowned for such, and have quite captivated my own heart, mind, and soul. No female had ever managed that with me until I met you, and I must say that I gladly surrender the keys to my very soul to your gentle onslaught."

"You should be careful of what you pledge, Sirrah. I may break your heart, scramble your mind, and devour your soul, all unintentionally."

"I am not worried," he returned almost seriously. "You will be as careful with my soul as you are with those you heal, you already are. Admit it, my beloved."

"Please," lowering her head, and turning it away slightly from his so earnest regard, she felt a tear form in the corner of one eye. "You know that I am not as others here, and also what I once was. Would you take on that burden, knowing that it might damage both of us in times to come? You fight against the Humans, and I still retain powerful ties, at least emotionally and mentally, to that race."

"You are Cheryii now," turning her to face him, and holding her there with more strength than he was usually prone to use, Currain stared into his Lady’s eyes. "and a most desireable female that has been artlessly driving me to distraction since I first met you. Can you deny that you feel the same towards me?"

"Nuh... No,"

"Then, M ‘Lady, My oh so beautiful, so wonderful, Lady," Currain smiled gently while pulling her closer to his chest. "You have lost this battle. Admit it and give me your love."

Feeling a warmth in her crotch, and a suspicious dampness accompanied by fiercer desire than she had ever known in either incarnation, Morgana let out a shaky sigh, then let go of Michael Morgan and his now useless male sensibilities with a happy, wondrous little breath of air out of her mouth. "I surrender, Sir. Do with me what you will, I won’t contest it."

"Help, more like," Currain chuckled while leading her to a secluded grove of trees. "The joining of Life-Companions is a thing done away from the view of others. Are you prepared to give yourself, and recieve of me, now?"

"You place me in a difficult position, my love."

"That does not answer my question, M’ Lady."

"How can I not be ready?" she replied quietly, pulling him down on top of her flushed, heated form. "Is that answer enough for you, my conqueror?"

His answer was to lift her skirts and show Morgana what it was to be female, while sending to her what he felt. In a whirlwind of lightning struck awe, she accepted all of it, and him. So Morgana-Iey -Sylvanus-A"Chddra’im and Currain-Iey-Barltress-A"Teerent’t-of the Warrior Clan Yllar’ium became Life-Companions and lovers.

* * * *

"Is this all necessary?"

"Yes, daughter," Ivaine chuckled as she watched her youngest daughter fidget in the finery Celeste, the AI had garbed her in for the formal, ceremonious gathering to acknowledge her joining with Currain.

"The actual joining of Life-Companions is a very private thing, but it must be formalized and celebrated, if only for the families of the two who have done so."

"Oh, all right," Morgana let out a stream of air through clenched teeth that resembled a whistle, then grimaced while plucking at the transparent but voluminous skirts and unending but equally see-through veils covering her head and shoulders. With little but a very snug and revealing corselet-like garment of silvery silk between. "But I may as well be naked for all that these things hide."

"You are very beautiful, daughter,"

"Thank you," giving her reflection in the floor length mirror Celeste had considerately supplied a dubious once over, the younger Lady closed her eyes for a moment, then grinned. "But this outfit leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination."

"Currain has already seen it," Ivain calmly pointed out, then laughed again. "While the other young males in attendance at least deserve one, if cloudy, look at what they have lost out on."

"I’ll never get used to all these customs,"

"Oh, stop grumbling, and move your lovely little behind," her mother gestured towards the door leading to the upstairs landing, and ultimately, the immense gathering below. "It is time that you admitted to being proud of who and what you are, Lady. Plus, Currain deserves the honor of allowing others to see for themselves what he has won, and given you, I might add. He is in no more concealing garb than you are."

"Really?"

"Truth, daughter," Ivaine gave her child a wide, lacivious grin. "I understand that he was as uncomfortable with his traditional garb as you are."

"Hmmm. Let’s go then. May as well get this over with.

"That’s the spirit."

"Besides, I’ve never seen Currain blush."

* * * *

The child, her fourth with Currain, kicked again, dimpling her swollen belly and causing her to press a delicate hand against the spot. "Ah, little one, don’t be so anxious. Time enough for getting out to see what the world is like in the usual manner, you don’t have to try and beat your way out before your time,"

"This one is active," Maeve observed with a grin.

"Just the child for his doting aunt to mind," Morgana replied a bit tiredly. "I’m very sure that you would get along with this one wonderfully. You two have so much in common."

"You mean the kicking?"

"Among other things, dear big sister."

"Ah," Maeve narrowed her eyes, "If I hadn’t done a little selective from behind encouragement you would not now be experiencing the joys of childbearing and being a mother."

That was all too true. Mike Morgan had still been very much present for a long time, and his psyche abhored the mere thought of becomng pregnant. Morgana, however, was continually amazed at the feeling of having a new life growing just beneath her heart. Even if that new life tended to make her a bit miserable at times. Sighing, she nodded to her sister with a rueful "I could really do without the kicking,"

"But without it," the elder sister pointed out, "there would be no children. All of yours have been very active."

"And stayed that way once they got out," Morgana sighed, then laughed. "Motherhood is not all sweets and pleasures."

"No, but it does seem to agree with you, little sister."

"I won’t argue that. You should try it."

"In my own time, little sister. In my own time."

"Selwyn seems quite willing to help you discover all that."

"Selwyn will have to wait until I am ready,"

"Oh, you’re ready," the younger sister chided. "I’ll have to tell the poor fellow just how ready you are."

"Do that," Maeve glowered in mock outrage, "and I will make sure to give your children the noisiest, most obnoxius toys I can find."

"You already do that."

"Oh, I do, don’t I?"

"Yes. And I fully intend to return the favor."

* * * *

The evening was warm without being uncomfortable, with a cooling breeze wafting in from the nearby lake to help keep the outside patio comfortable. Morgana contentedly watched her children playing in the large, well tended yard sloping gradually down to what she often referred to as ‘her’ lake while making sure the little ones didn’t get too close to the water.

Michael, her eldest and named after her previous self was all of five years old and growing adventurous, so he was the one she watched most closely. Curtis, the next oldest at four was all too willing to follow his big brother into whatever trouble the five year old could find to get into, which was plenty. Ivaine, her first daughter, at two years of age, mainly toddled precariously on the lawn near her mother. Maeve, the youngest, still an infant, suckled contentedly at her mother’s breast in the gentle evening, happy to be held and fed.

Across the lake, she could see the Sylvanus estate, and a tiny figure that waved energetically. Morgana returned the wave, not sure which sibling was there because of the distance, but pleased that whoever it was had noted her presence on the lawn outside of the home Currain and her father had had built for the new couple shortly following their formal Joining Ceremony.

The house wasn’t huge, but large, airy, and lovely with outside walls of pink shot gray marble, meticulous landscaping (Currain’s talent, not hers) and filled with comfortable, elegant furnishings. Aside from being beautiful, the place was home, something Mike Morgan had never really experienced since an early age, and Morgana loved it for what it represented as much as for what it was.

A place that was hers and Currain’s, to raise and nurture their children, to make love in when the little ones were abed, to host small gatherings of friends and family, and most importantly, to be there as a place they could go to, and look forward to reaching whenever either travelled.

Which was frequently for Currrain, with his duties as Commander of a division sized detachement of warriors who’s gathering point was the orbital station that also served as a gateway to inter-stellar commerce between Sylvan and other worlds so distant they almost seemed nothing more than a dream.

A rarer occurance for Morgana, though she did make weekly junkets to the town of BanLoch for familiarization with the Warrior network and resources available on planet in case of emergency. The majority of her trips were short distances and involved healing, or regional council meetings. Membership in that was something that had become attendant with her family ties on both sides, though she would rather have remained home with the children instead of leaving them in the care of their doting Aunt Maeve, who spoiled them outrageously.

Currain would be on-station for another six days, a time that began to seem like forever as his usual monthly stints grew close to being finished, and there was another council meeting in the morning that she couldn’t get out of. Property rights between two currently feuding families were to be settled at that meeting, and it promised to be a long, tedious ordeal. But one she was honor bound to attend.

Wishing for the hundreth time that Ivain wasn’t on Home for the Pan Cheryii council, and that Currain was already on-planet instead of in distant orbit, she called out to her children to bring them back to the house and the nightly struggle of getting them ready for bed.

* * * *

Morgana actually considered violence for a few moments as the stubborn head of the Chrysu Family staunchly refused the arbitration the council had managed to pound out in several interminable hours. She hoped her children weren’t driving Maeve to distraction while soothing the infant namesake of her sister after a particularly ravenous feeding that had given the little one gas.

Rian Chrysu stood resolutely in the center of the council chamber while continuing to expound on his reasoning for rejecting the scrupulously fair settlement. "My family has held these lands for..."

A distant boom, followed shortly with a shaking of the chamber that rattled glassware halted his tirade in mid sentence. More hollow sounding booms from spots all around the town, and even one from what had to be near the outskirts in the direction of the armory rattled nerves and windows again.

Confusion of another sort rapidly filled the chamber, as many representatives rose from their seats and moved towards the windows to see what was happening.

"ALERT!" the comm units spaced at frequent intervals through the chamber thundered. "WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. THE EXPLOSIONS YOU HEAR ARE SUB-ORBITAL BOMBS. GENERAL POPULACE TAKE COVER IN DESIGNATED SHELTERS. WARRIORS TO STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A DRILL, WE ARE CURRENTLY UNDER ATTACK FROM AS YET UNIDENTIFIED AGGRESSORS."

Instinct screamed at her to return to the Sylvanus estate and gather her children. The fussing babe in her arms began crying loudly and she realized that her hold on the child had tightened dangerously, so Morgana conciously eased the grip of her arms around the infant. Along with everyone else in the chamber, she reached an exit and sought to see where the bombs had fallen already while impelled to get her baby to some shelter.

Ominous clouds of oily black smoke rose from points all around the small city, including the direction of the Sylvanus estate and her own home. A supersonic screech overhead resolved into a blur of grey motion that soon passed over the horizon while another screamed down almost directly at them.

"Get under cover!" she shouted, gesturing for the milling crowd to get back inside the council building.

The large windows and light walls made for poor shielding, but they were better than nothinng at all.

Fortunately, the missile, or bomb arced past the city center to impact directly on the flaming ruin that had been the region’s primary armory with a blinding, deafening explosion that did more to make the confused throng obey her screamed command than beating them with a whip would have.

A pattering of debris began around them as the group surged back into the council building, accompanied with sickening crashes of larger pieces falling to earth closer to the source of the explosion.

"What should we do, Lady?" cried several of the representatives in unison. A cry taken up by others, all looking to her for an answer. Old, long buried habits and experience arose as the group she had ended up in charge of by virtue of her family neared open panic.

"Those of you with Warrior training find weapons and get to your emergency stations," she spat out with a gesture towards the still shuddering street. "The rest get to the records center, it is as close a thing to a fortress we have left in BanLoch since the armory is gone. Go to the cellars, seal the doors and stay there until you hear otherwise."

* * * *

After sheparding the non-combatants towards their destination, with the baby entrusted to a female friend on the council, she grimly turned to finding out what exactly was happening. Both the Station and the Sylvanus estate were gone. One debris already entering the atmosphere, the other a smoking crater in the ground. Her own home had received similiar treatment, as had all outlying estates. The attackers knew full well that the planet’s leadership resided in those places. It had been pure luck that a council meeting had pulled her into town.

Other council members had unearthed a cache of weapons, both personal arms and larger, anti-aircraft and armor pieces that had been scattered throughout the city in training exercises or as exhibits. She absently accepted the plasma rifle and ablative breastplate from one while numbly realizing that she had lost both Currain and three of her children within minutes of each other.

Anti-aircraft batteries thumped as more bombs, and atmospheric aircraft belonging to the enemy screamed overhead. A streamlined shape trailing smoke from a direct hit by one of the reserve anti-aircraft batteries faltered directly overhead and she recognized the bulging-at-the-middle shape.

"Center, Morgana-Iey-Sylvanus-A"chddra’im, here, I have a positive ID on aggressor craft. Human combat shuttles. In landing configuration. We have an invasion in progress. Repeat, Human combat shuttles in landing configuration are preparing to land troops on-planet. We have an invasion in progress."

"Acknowledged, Sylvanus." the comm stuttered back. "What is your status? Repeat, what is your status?"

"Getting non-combatants to shelter, Center," was her terse reply as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Outlying estates and main armory gone. Repeat, gone. Reserves mounting defensive fire and setting up a perimeter."

"Acknowledged, Sylvanus." the harried Center comm officer passed on. "Command says, BanLoch is yours."

"Aye," Morgana responded bleakly. "Got that Center. Sylvanus out."

"Center! We have ring landers at Arioch! Repeat, Ring landers at Arioch!" a desperate voice filled the comm. Ring landers, she thought with a shudder. Literally flying redoubts that landed and provided a protected staging area for troops and equipment to ready themselves for an assault. Ring landers were pretty well the exclusive transports for the elite and blood thirsty First Strike Troopers.

"You have First Strike Troops in Arioch, Center," she called. "Advise using whatever ordnance necessary to take them out soonest."

Whether her advice was taken or not, she didn’t find out till much later. Events around her began taking her full attention.

"Morgana!" Niall, pale and grim, rushed up to her followed by a squad of armored and well armed warriors. "Everyone’s dead! The family is gone!"

"I know, Niall," waving another anti-armor weapon to a spot guarding the entrance to the city square, she nodded. "Get your squad over to the records center. Make sure the people there are secure and sealed in, then stay to defend them."

"I want to fight the bastards!" her brother shouted back defiantly, beginning to move towards the outskirts of town.

"Gods damn you, Niall!" she outshouted him while grabbing tightly to his shoulder and pulling him back. "You’ll have your chance at that soon enough! Do as I tell you. Little Maeve is there, along with several hundred others unable to defend themselves. Get yourself and your squad over there NOW! Or so help me, by whatever gods are watching this disaster, I’ll shoot you where you stand!"

"Haven’t we lost enough?!" he raged, "that you would threaten to shoot your own brother?"

"Yes," shoulders sagging she nodded. "We have. So have others. I’m trying to minimize further losses,

Niall. We can grieve when this is over. Until then, we have no time for such luxuries. Understand that.

Understand that right now, or I will replace you as commander of this squad."

"Who gave you Command? he responded angrily, "and by what right do you take it?"

"Center gave me command," was her quiet answer. "By right of experience. Niall, I died once in combat. I do not wish for you to do so, or for myself to do that again, nor for anyone else to unnecessarily.

Follow my orders, brother, or I will take your command from you and give it to someone with a more level head. Understand? Throwing yourself and your squad at the invaders will serve no purpose but theirs."

"I hear you, Commander," Niall nodded with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Defend the records center, little brother," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "And survive this.

There are few enough of us left now. Don’t throw your life away without reason. I beg you."

"You’ve made your point, sister," he answered, gesturing for his squad to move towards the city center and the undefended records center. "Keep yourself alive into the bargain, will you?"

"I’m already dead," she answered to his retreating back. "What do I have to fear? The NTF has taken almost everything I held dear. And I want to make them pay for that."

She busied herself with setting up a teneble defensive perimeter, sniper posts, and getting the odd non-combatant to safety. At least that way she had no time to dwell on her personal losses.

* * * *

"But, Lady," the warrior protested. "Destroying our own buildings is insane."

"No more so than allowing New Terran First Strike Troops unimpeded access to the heart of our city," Morgana returned sharply. "I want all buildings adjacent to outward bound roads and highways blown. So the debris clutters the roadways. Any impediment we can set in their way will be to our advantage.

These troops will kill anything living in their path," she continued. "Believe me, I know this to be true. Give no quarter to red armored troops. They are heartless, conscienceless creatures who live only to kill. Even the wounded are deadly. Do as I order, block easy access to the city center, and kill any of those you see."

"Such tactics are not our way," the officer stubbornly maintained.

"Then LEARN them, damn you!" Morgana slammed the table top she was using for a mapboard with one hand while pointing at the recalcitrant warrior with the other. "These invaders have no concept of honor or mercy. Red armor means death. Remember that. And kill any you see wearing such. That is an order. I have no time to argue with stiff-necked officers. Do as I tell you or be replaced by someone who will follow my orders. I have extensive experience with the New Terran fighting techniques and if you do not heed me we will suffer for it."

"As you say, M’ Lady,"

"Then get to it," she grated. "We have very little time."

* * * *

Reports from the front bore out her dire predictions, and the Warriors under her command soon came to agree with her initial assessment of the enemy’s First Strike Troopers. Red armored troops had cut a swath of countryside forty kicks across that was devoid of life where they had passed.

"They are creating a safe corridor for troop transport and supplies," Morgana informed the gathered Warriors. "If nothing lives in that zone, nothing opposes them. We must stop them here, or even the chance of evacuation to another world is gone."

"How do we stop them, Lady?"

"Take out their armored units and artillery, to start," she answered crisply. "Without that suppport, they are still dangerous, even deadly, but the zone of total destruction they are currently leaving in their wake will vanish. The possibility of attack from behind will divert some of their resources, even if such a threat is negligable. But to survive at all, to have any chance, we must destroy their armored units and artillery.

And that will cost us dearly."

"Youu have been right so far, Lady," an elderly Warrior admitted. "How do we accomplish such a thing?"

"Ambushes, hit and run attacks, even suicide runs," Morgana sighed, shaking her head. "We are the last, forlorn hope for our people in this region. We must at least slow their advance.

When they reach the outskirts of BanLoch," she finished grimly, "They must have no heavy weaponry to use against us. Otherwise, we fall, and join the dead already lying in their path."

"It will be done as you say, Lady,"

With a heart heavy for the losses that would be suffered in the doing, she gave the officers a bleak smile.

"Good. It is the only chance we have."

* * * *

Red armored bodies littered the access roads to the square, some still feebly twitching or trying to reach friendly ground. The snipers she had so carefully set in well protected positions made sure few of them made it. The toll on her available troops had been horrendous, but the First Strike Troops had nothing heavier than man moveable weapons once they had finally reached the perimeter of the city center.

Lively, determined defense had stalled their advance there.

"Find the officers," Morgana advised her snipers. "The rest will mill about like lost children without the direction they give."

Red armored officers soon learned to stay low and out of sight as more of their numbers fell to the deadly accurate fire from snipers they were unable to pinpoint or blast into nothingness. The stalemate had lasted four hours when the defender’s hopes vanished with an approaching cloud of dust and rumble of armored vehicles.

"Regulars," Morgana informed her remaining troops through the comm. "Moving in to consolidate the gains made by the damned First Strikers. Hold your positions and be ready to target their armor."

It was a slim hope, and nearly nonexistent, but the best they had under the circumstances. After fighting so hard, holding the ravening enemy to a standstill for so long, seeing the reinforcements arrive was almost too much for most to bear.

"These are not like the red ones," she hoped while encouraging her weary troops. "They do not glory in killing for it’s own sake. Do not fire upon them unless I give the order personally. I repeat, DO NOT FIRE ON THEM WITHOUT MY PERSONAL COMMAND."

There was some grumbling, but no one contested her orders. She had been right up to that point, and none ventured to second guess her decisions.

The First Strike commander, wearing insignae Morgana recognize as I.G., rode his speeding transport to meet the leading units of the new phalanx of mostly intact armor. Once there, he appeared to be arguing with the officer in command with vehement gestures towards the records center and the horribly thin ring of defenders around it.

The newcomer’s officer shrugged, gave the ranting colonel a look of disgust, then raised his own firearm and shot the officer as the assembled armor opened fire on the red armored troops remaining. Soon, nothing of the ravening, blood mad First Strikers remained but smoking, twitching wounded. Who were rapidly dispatched by both sniper fire and the NTF troops that had recently come on the scene.

Stunned, the defenders silently awaited the next development in that astounding turn of events.

"Their commander wishes to speak with you, Lady," was relayed from forward units.

"Very well," Morgana responded. "Tell him I am coming."

* * * *

"Lady," the officer gave a courtly bow of respect. "You have done remarkably well in your defense of this city."

"Thank you, it was either that or submit to extermination." she replied with an inclination of her own head. "I have innocents here, as well as Warriors. I would not allow them to die in such a horrible manner if it was preventable."

"I understand," with a faint smile, the officer waved towards the carnage of shredded red armor amd those who had worn it. "Friendly fire gone astray. Happens all the time."

"I thank you for that strayed fire," Morgana gave him a full bow, recognizing the man even through his armor and lowered visor. "But where does that leave us?"

"In a rather awkward position, Lady," he responded. "I have been charged with securing this city as a safe landing zone for troops. But your spirited defense up to now tells me that such a task will not be easy."

"No, it would not be."

"I thought so," he admitted, raising his visor and even removing his helmet to show a weary, sickened face. "After seeing what those First Strike Sons-a-bitches have done getting this far, I can’t blame you at all. Maybe we could reach some sort of agreement. Something that would allow you to get your people to safety and me to achieve my mission parameters without more bloodshed."

"I am listening."

"Good," he nodded tiredly. "You, at least, show some sense in this."

"I have lost enough already. I would fight you to the last Warrior under my command if there were no alternative. Give me a viable option."

"Take your people northeast, fifty kilcks," waving vaguely in the direction he had told her of, the man offered a weak smile. "Your poeple have kept that corridor open. It leads to a staging area where evacuation is in progress. Take whatever transport you can find, load your people up and get the hell out of here, Lady. Hell, I’ll even give you some of my empty transports if you’ll go," running a hand over a sweat streaked face, he actually smiled. "I just don’t want to be forced to kill you, or your people here. Please, take my offer and go. I have no other options to offer. It’s that or we fight a pitched battle right here, and both of us know what the outcome of that would be."

"All too well, Captain Shapiro," Morgana had read the nameplate on the breast of his battle armor with a twinge of sympathy. "I am Morgana-Iey-Sylvanus-A"chddra’im, and accept your offer. With honor to you for giving it."

"You have an hour, New Terran, Lady Morgana," Shapiro quietly answered. "It has been an honor to meet such a courageous and resourceful adversary. If you are still here after that hour, we will be true adversaries. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Captain, Shapiro," giving a series of rapid orders through her wrist comm unit, she turned to see the unarmed, and untrained non-combatants hesitantly emerging from the protective confines of the heavy walled records center. "We will be away in far less time than that. I thank you for your mercy."

"Don’t thank me," he returned shortly, then softened that with an admiring smile. "I think I’ll live to regret this."

"You might," she agreed. "I was ambivilant towards your New Terran Federation up to now, but in all honesty and honor, must tell you that your government has made a new enemy in me with what has happened here. I will not rest until your NTF is dismantled and in ruins."

"Personally, I wish you well in that ambition," Shapiro answered, then brusquely waved into the distance. "You’d better get going. Time is runnning."

"As you say."

* * * *

Farewell, and be well, Curtis," she breathed while boarding the last transport to leave beleaguered BanLoch. "We will meet again, I promise you."

 

(continued)

 

 

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