BattleTech Fanon Wiki
Advertisement
From a Ristar to a Lady (Cover Art)

From a Ristar to a Lady
- Chapter 55 -
[]

<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>


Conflicted Feelings[]

Castle Rason
Delacambre, Federation Suns
Milligan PDZ, Woodbine Operational Area
11th December, 3061
1300 hours (0700 hrs on local 21 hr cycle)

In the end, Seran Chrisholm did not join them for lunch nor dinner. Which was just as well. Anastasia was plagued with a dull headache throughout, and she barely even remembered what was discussed during the conversation during both meals. Thankfully, Finn and the other nobles seemed more than understanding and easily made allowances for her condition, and she quickly retired for the night after dinner.

Sir Duvnes had been especially kind, quickly arranging for soup and other light foods suitable for her, and even made excuses on her behalf, saying that she was probably worn out after journey on a military dropship. Even in her fugue-like state, she was struck by the rapport between him and Finn. And because she was to be Finn’s wife, he extended every courtesy to her, even if she could not quite reciprocate with her utmost sincerity due to her condition.

Her sleep was troubled, and she had nightmares of Smoke Jaguar warriors being betrayed by their own civilians, their food poisoned, their mechs breaking down in critical situations in battle, and even important logistics being intentionally delayed to sabotage the clan touman. Even worse, part of her nightmare had the Great Father Aleksandr Kerensky haranguing the Smoke Jaguar Khans for misinterpreting whatever he had initially envisioned for the Star League Defense Force in their exile.

Anastasia woke up from her nightmares, breathing hard and sweating profusely despite the air-conditioning of the room allocated to her in Finn’s castle. It was early morning, and dawn light streamed in through the windows.

Not wanting to trouble Luisa, Anastasia changed into her own exercise clothes. She had done some light workouts during the journey here, but propriety and the fact that the ship crews and military detachment personnel were almost all male made it difficult. A specific time slot had to be set aside just for her and the small number of women who wanted to train, and the gym was already too small to fully cater to the demands of the people on the DropShip.

She did manage to work out a few times with the female mechwarrior, Raella Givens, who piloted the Dervish. From their conversations, she had found that Raella had come from one of the few remaining martial families on Delacambre, and had trained her whole life to be a mechwarrior to serve in the Trivet militia forces. Even her Dervish was a family heirloom, like the Kalinski Valkyrie at Fort Lambourne.

So Raella had grown up with the misogynistic slant to Trivet culture, and was used to it. She had remarked to Anastasia that it was actually not just because of men looking down on women who wanted to be warriors, but rather even women themselves who exerted societal pressure against other women who wanted to join the military. Raella had also told her she experienced less social opprobrium growing up on Delacambre, but Inman, with its higher concentration of snobbish nobleborn ladies, had been very trying when she was first posted there.

Anastasia found her feet carrying her not to the training grounds, but to the simulator room next to it. She had not even thought about it, but the sounds of mech combat from the widescreen showing the ongoing training session just drew her attention.

There was only one occupant, clearly a skilled mechwarrior. The Hatchetman on the screen dodged or ran though several salvos of LRM missile fire to deliver a crushing hatchet blow on an Archer, then ripped into it with a point blank autocannon burst, triggering an ammunition explosion that blew apart the heavy mech.

Seran Chrisholm emerged from the simulator pod, sweating heavily with a satisfied look on her face, spitting her mouthguard into a hand. Wordlessly, almost reflexively, Anastasia grabbed an electrolyte drink bottle from a rack next to her and tossed it to the mechwarrior, who easily grabbed it with her free hand and took a long swig.

“Thank you, my lady.” Seran shot her an appreciative glance. “I did not expect to see you up and about this early, and at the simulator room, of all places, quiaff?”

It took Anastasia every bit of her etiquette training over the past year to avoid using ‘aff’ as a reply. She bit her lips, suddenly unsure of what to say. The sound of mech combat drew me here unconsciously, but now I cannot explain it to her!

“My lady?”

“I apologize, Baroness Chrisholm. I didn’t mean to interrupt your training. I also wake up around this time to train.”

Seran smirked, eying her attire. “Of course, you look dressed for it. Slow jog on a treadmill doesn’t seem like much, though.”

Anastasia fumed silently at the presumption. “A slow jog is better than just sitting around doing nothing, qui… er… right?” Argh, I was really tempted to use ‘quiaff’ just now!

“Pfft!” Seran beamed, all smiles and flowers. “Aff, quite right! Training does not have to be something fancy or complex.” She continued, “I also notice you never fail to address me as Baroness Chrisholm. Most people call me Lady Chrisholm instead on purpose, claiming it is not proper for a clanner to hold a noble title.”

“I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Did not think anything of it?” Seran looked sceptical.

“No, why would I? Nobility titles are granted to those worthy, aren’t they?”

Seran replied in a self-deprecating manner, “Usually not to individuals from a clan deemed the most vicious by the Inner Sphere, the clan responsible for the atrocity at Turtle Bay. It would be like the Federated Suns granting a title to a defecting DCMS soldier who was at the Kentares Massacre and decided to change sides. Military rank? Maybe. A title?” She sighed, “Not stravag likely. But somehow, here I am.”

Anastasia suppressed a wince. She knew what had happened at Turtle Bay, almost everybody did.

“Before Turtle Bay, I was a Crusader. Do you know what that meant, my lady?”

“I think I do.” Anastasia answered cautiously. “The Crusaders sought to rebuild the Star League by conquering and subjugating the Successor States.” She quickly added, “I learned about this from books and some documentaries in the wake of the battles in the Occupation Zone, because I wanted to know more about what Viscount Rason did during the war, and he seemed loathe to tell me.” Well, actually I never really dared to ask him. Besides, I was his opponent on the field for most of it, so why do I need to ask him at all?

“Aff, you are correct. At first, I was like any good little Smoke Jaguar,” her words were scathing, “convinced of the worthiness of our cause. We hit hard initially, and these successes went to our heads - we won because our cause was just. But when the Sabre Cat bombarded Edo from orbit, for me it was a wakeup call. Every member of the clan, even most of the hardline Crusaders, thought the ortillery attack was an act of cowardice, a sign of weakness. I thought about it a little bit more.”

Anastasia stayed silent.

“Other warriors might not have read the reports from the Wolf Dragoons, but I did. Their accounts were full of examples of planets changing hands between the Successor States without the rabid resistance that we kept seeing on the worlds we conquered. What was the difference? They did not try to change their lifestyles too much, force them into castes, or make overly ridiculous demands on production that would actually wreck their local economies. By the Founder, I think a Successor State that took over often did not even raise the overall tax rate at all, while we effectively doubled, or even tripled it. Of course the locals would fight back, they would not even have enough to eat!”

Anastasia’s eyes went wide. As Avryl Showers, she had very little knowledge of civilian matters, but her time on Altoona as Anastasia Kalinska had taught her much about local administration, including taxation, much to her personal consternation at learning what she felt to be merchant skills. A doubling or tripling of the effective tax rate with the food, supplies, and materials going offworld to feed the Smoke Jaguar touman probably ruined many local planetary economies, which were often already operating on the margins.

If only I had known… But another part of her forced herself to be honest. But even if I did, would I have done anything differently?

Seran went on, her entire demeanor intense and driven. “So I started questioning the Khans’ orders. Was it worth expending so many resources to pacify our conquests while extracting mere dregs? Or better to simply lighten our grip on the people and actually gain a net profit instead?” She laughed mirthlessly. “I was accused of thinking like a Diamond Shark merchant, by many unwilling to let go of their pride.”

“But you still fought…” said Anastasia.

“Aff, I still served and fought well during Operation Revival, of course. None could deny that the 214th Jaguar Dragoons did not deserve a place of honour in the touman. But as time went on and I saw more and more of the Inner Sphere, my doubts continued to grow. Victories became hard won, and while I savoured them, others did not, for the misguided reason that difficult victories are proof that the Inner Sphere was even more corrupt and tainted than we thought.”

Anastasia remembered hearing all these during her time in the Occupation Zone, although she had been too busy raiding across the border, earning glory and collecting isorla to worry too much about what the other warriors said about the Inner Sphere. Maybe she should have paid more attention…

“Of course the battles would get harder!” Seran scoffed, “We were fighting backwater militias and rear-echelon units initially, but the Spheroids were not stupid. By the time the ilKhan was killed, we were facing frontline units on almost every world. But instead of considering these battles as the glorious struggles they are, many Smoke Jaguar warriors chose to denigrate our opponents for using dezgra tactics instead of thinking of how to fight smarter. When even the Warden Wolves are doing better than we are, we should have been taking notes from them.”

Anastasia almost scowled at the mention of the hated Wolves, but just refrained in time. She feigned curiosity instead, inwardly castigating herself for using such subterfuge. “Warden? They’re the opposite of Crusaders? Wanting to defend the Inner Sphere against external threats?”

“Aff. I was not really a Warden, even back then, but as time went on, the Crusader viewpoint sounded sillier and sillier. To reestablish the Star League by conquest? When it was originally founded by consent, and yet sowed the seeds of its own destruction when it oppressed the Periphery? And here we are, trying to repeat the same old mistakes.”

Seran sighed. “After Tukayyid, I finally decided to declare myself a Warden, and to defend the people of the Inner Sphere, instead of stepping roughshod over them.”

Anastasia cleared her throat, then asked, “Forgive me for playing devil’s advocate, but surely the Crusaders were justified in some ways? Kentares…”

“Was centuries ago. All its perpetrators were long dead. We should not hold people responsible for what their forebears did, quiaff? And we forsook any moral high ground when we bombarded Edo. And you might not know this, but the Smoke Jaguar civilians who came with me, they are all living much better lives now than when they were members of the clan. If we could not even take care of our own people, then by what rationale do we have to impose a Star League with the same living conditions on the rest of humanity?”

“The rest of your clan’s warriors would…”

“Whole bunch of misguided fools, utterly secure in their beliefs yet unable to open their eyes to what was really happening. Only the fact that I had a good combat record, a Bloodname, and high rank saved me from being called out as a traitor, but I know there were others who were not as lucky, and some of them were not even Wardens, but simply more moderate in their Crusader beliefs. Have you heard of Trent?”

Anastasia nodded. “Wasn’t he the traitor who betrayed the Smoke Jaguars to the Star League?”

“Aff, but he had good reason to. I knew Paul Moon, his superior officer, was an arrogant surat, and heard rumours, which I confirmed later from people I trusted. Trent was constantly belittled and credit for his accomplishments given to others. After the way the clan treated him, I was not surprised at his betrayal.”

“Trent betrayed his own clan. Are you implying that treason is acceptable under certain circumstances?”

“As I said, he had good reason to turn traitor. In an ideal world, maybe we would all fight gloriously for righteous causes, but in reality we often find ourselves having to make difficult choices.”

Anastasia had to know more. “And if you could save the Smoke Jaguars?”

Seran shook her head. “The clan was beyond redemption. Those like Trent were outnumbered by the sycophants and extremists, or even the misguided fools I talked about. I was lucky, shielded by my achievements, bloodname, and rank. So many were not, and I could not do anything for them.” Her fists clenched in anger. “Even those who were pure of motives in restoring the Star League, failed to open their eyes.”

That barb hit home, and Anastasia knew she belonged to that category. “Wasn’t restoring the Star League a good thing?”

“It depends on exactly how that is accomplished. By consent, sure. At the business end of a PPC? Take that away, and how long would that Star League have lasted? And now that the Star League has been re-established, by consent mind you, what exactly did the Crusaders do? Did they join up, or do they lurk outside it, waiting for their chance to pull it down?”

“They still want to rule over the Inner Sphere,” whispered Anastasia.

“Aff, that is the crux of it. It was never about establishing the Star League to usher in an era of peace, but to rule. Plain power, pure and simple. But who would want to be ruled by a bunch of power-hungry thugs? And those Smoke Jaguars who really thought they were trying to restore the Star League?”

Seran scoffed. “They never realized that they would serve as a common enemy for the Inner Sphere to rally against. The harder they fought, the more determined the Inner Sphere would become as well. If they really wanted to restore the Star League, they should have opened their eyes and tried to speak out against the ill treatment of the civilians, integrate our clan ways with our new people. There is a saying that there is nothing worse than an ignorant person with complete conviction, and my clan was full of them! While they had good intentions, every battle they fought only brought more havoc and suffering to those around them.”

“But…” Anastasia wanted to protest, Seran was both right and wrong. They were not ignorant. They had eyes and ears. They knew. They all knew. At some level she knew too, yet like everybody else, she had believed everything would be fine once they had won and restored the Star League, and that anybody who disagreed were only cowards and lacked belief in their cause, unwilling to make the sacrifices necessary for their ultimate victory.

“Fools, the lot of them. Stravag fools!” Her tone was bitter. Anastasia could see that Seran’s eyes were moist. “And for that stupidity, the clan had to die.” Her hand crushed the plastic bottle for the electrolyte drink.

The clan had to die. Anastasia felt tears well up too, but she held it back, barely.

Seran sighed. “I apologize, my lady. I got carried away. There is still much anger and regret I have, sorry for unloading it all on you.” She tossed the bottle angrily into a nearby bin.

“It’s all right.” Anastasia said quietly.

“I think I’ll go back for another round, get the anger out of my system. What about you?”

Anastasia did not feel like training any more. “I’ll return to my room. I still don’t feel well, I think. Excuse me.” She turned, and tried to walk away quickly while trying to avoid giving the perception she was in distress.

She finally broke into a run when nobody was watching, stumbling down the deserted corridor. So this is the truth I have been blind to all this time. She staggered and leaned against a pillar. A whole clan of fools, and I was one of them! We were complete failures, as both leaders and warriors. And the former Jaguar civilians thriving in the Inner Sphere are proof of that. I had considered it my duty to do everything I can to restore the Star League, but it was all one big farce…

Did Erlin and the others know? They must have, they were Wardens. Then why did they not say anything? But again, she knew in her heart why they did not. They did not say anything because I was not ready to listen. So what was I fighting for anyway? To make the lives of people worse?

She remembered what Pence had said during that tea party, so long ago…

“Avryl Showers should never have become a mechwarrior.”

He knew. He might have been a stravag traitor from the Burrocks, but he knew and acknowledged what was going on, while she remained ignorant, and chose to remain that way.

“Are you all right, my lady?”

She raised her head to see Sir Duvnes rolling his motorized wheelchair down the corridor, obviously concerned.

“Ahh, what happened? I shall call for assistance…”

“No need, good sir. I was careless and tripped myself. No big deal.” Lying seems to come easier and easier to me. Would there be a day when I cannot even distinguish my own lies to myself?

She hurriedly stood to her feet, and tried to change the topic. “What brings you up so early?”

He smiled at her. “Oh, I was going to observe Baroness Chrisholm’s simulator training. She wants me to critique her performance.”

“Oh, so you were a mechwarrior?”

He laughed gently. “Not much of one, my lady. I served in the 1st Davion Guards, was even Viscount Rason’s company CO when he was in the Guards. Well, at least until Bicester.”

Dread pooled in her stomach. She had been to Bicester, and that was when she faced off against Finn for the first time. “What happened on Bicester?”

“Oh, a Smoke Jaguar raid hit us while we were preparing for Bulldog. A clan PPC shot hit my Victor’s cockpit at extreme range. I am lucky to still be alive.”

She paled.

Yes, he was very lucky. She had been so proud of that kill, taking down his Victor, an assault mech, with an almost impossible shot and rocking the AFFC company back long enough for her Binary to secure their escape. Finn had ably rallied his company to try to pursue, but it was too late by then.

So not only was she a failure and a fool, but her actions had severe consequences. No matter what Hawise had said, she could not help but feel sorry for ever hurting this kind man who had no inkling she was the person who had crippled him.

On top of it all, she had to continue being a liar.

The words came unbidden from her mouth. “I’m sorry…”

His eyes crinkled kindly at her. “What do you have to be sorry for? You did not fire the PPC, and it was war. As soldiers, we knew the risks while taking the Prince’s coin.” He leaned back in his wheelchair. “I’ve served through the Fourth Succession War and the War of ‘39. Honestly, I was getting a bit long in the tooth, so maybe that clanner did me a favor!” He chuckled, then coughed violently. The PPC blast had not only taken his legs and scarred his whole body, but the searing air had probably scorched his lungs and reduced their functionality.

A favor? She did not think so. What kind of favor was it to leave him crippled for the rest of his life, stuck in a wheelchair, where even breathing was difficult?

The coughing subsided, and she looked at him in concern.

“Oh, don’t worry, my lady,” he waved a hand dismissively, “these coughing fits come and go. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” She feigned a smile.

“I’ll be on my way to the simulator room then. By your leave, my lady,” His wheelchair moved off.

Anastasia waited until he was out of sight before she collapsed to her knees again. All I am good for, is to hurt other people. Would I also end up hurting Finn?

She had no answer to that, and that made her heart ache even more. Maybe it would be better if she disappeared…


Finn knocked on her door for long moments, but decided to enter when he received no reply. “Pardon my intrusion…” He looked around the room, and saw that it was empty.

“Ana?” There was no reply.

But there was a letter on her bed.


<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>

Advertisement