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Strategos (A Great Captain Roberts Tale!!) - Part 2 -
Chapter 22 - The Outworlds War Part Two.[]
You're Doubling Down[]
Johnson Star System - Outworlds Wastes
OWS Illusive...
…tumbled out of the Nadir point in the Johnson system, minus most of the forward third of her hull, and significant portions of her starboard center and aft armors.
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Newgrange Class Yardship, OWS Erinyes
The bodycount was likely to be steep.
Erinyes sent out her tugs, but it was cheers when the half-ruined Corvette's main engines, well, minus half their thrusters, lit, and it sluggardly moved to meet them.
Debriefing by a MedTech[]
"I'm…alive… …still?" He asked.
"You set a new record, seventy hours in a compromised suit on recycled air," the Outworlder medtech explained. "We couldn't save your legs, sir, but the tourniquet effect of how they were pinned probably kept you partly alive by limiting how much of your body was absorbing oxygen. The Field Team had to amputate to get you out, so at least you didn't get flooded with necrotic toxins."
"My crew?" he asked.
"Heavy losses," she told him. "but your XO got your ship back with the survivors."
"And the Evanescent??" he asked.
"Captain Roberts messaged about nine hours ago," she reported. "Still operational, but they're still out there."
He reached down, it was still there. "I need-"
"To lie back and let the drugs take you away, sir," the medtech told him. "You're still in bad shape, so just let the warm and fuzzies carry you into sleep."
He felt the chemical spike of fatigue, dragging him down…
Details of an Ambush[]
Esme Gomez…
…sat down in the comms room at Privateer Base Johnson. "Khan Crow?"
"Is Foster awake yet?" the Khan asked.
"Sir, Fleet Captain Foster… excuse me, Executive Director Foster, is in no condition to be debriefed. Medical here says he suffered organ damage in addition to the crushed legs and sustained anoxia. As of this morning, the Officer cadre for OWS Illusive consists of myself, Point Commander Karen, and Chief Engineering Tech Ryan… and Fleet Captain Foster, who is at present unfit for duty. We retained seventy one enlisted personnel and most of the marines, but losing CIC killed a lot of our senior staff, including the CAG, sir."
"What happened out there?" the Khan asked. "You can tell me that much, quiaff?"
"They predicted our move, and had nuclear armed DropShips positioned to intercept and ambush, with heavy fighter cover. The whole system was about ten times as protected as the recovered information from enemy captures in this system and previous encounters indicated. The warheads were small-grade stuff, speculation is they were repurposed Davy Crocketts, since we managed to get out with anything left, sir."
"You were not in CIC at the time?"
She shook her head, "I was off-shift and pulling supplemental duty in engineering with our Cheng, sir. Graden was covering my position on the comms board."
"Why were you assisting the engineer?"
"I was documenting a wandering fault between number three fusion toroid and the HPG transmitter array. We thought it might be a stress related flaw, nothing immediately critical unless it failed, sir."
"So who plotted your jumped out?"
She winced, "We got the jump solution from OWS Evanescent along with orders to return to base at fastest speed, sir…" She opened her eyes. "...Captain Roberts sent it on Channel 11, emergency encrypt."
"How much of your ship is left?" he demanded.
"We have about sixty percent of the structure, the jump core, one third of the maneuver drive…and the aftmost small craft bay, sir."
"Remain at Johnson until relieved. Relief forces are embarking from OMC Station Northsun, they should arrive in four weeks."
"Aye sir…what about repairs?"
"I'll wait and see what the Techs from Erinyes say about that. Your vessel may end up being scrapped and replaced… though if things do not go well at Quatre Belle, that replacement may be a long time in coming."
"Quatre Belle?"
"Quatre Belle is under assault by a taskforce, Loremaster Howe is handling the defense. Which is why I am handling your debrief, instead of the head of the Watch."
Regrouping after a Loss[]
Grankum had…
…clearly been reinforced from Fallry. "They could return at any time." Amanda observed.
"Ayeh, they could," Larry said. "What's our plan?"
"We don't know how long it's going to take them to shift those forces back to this system, so we take advantage." she asserted. "We tried the conventional navy route and lost Illusive so we're going to play this one by our style. So first, we're going to start off by breaking their JumpShips that are charging at the Zenith Point."
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Holotable
She drew an imaginary line that way on the holotable. "From there, we'll in-system for the Nadir and do the same thing, then dash for the outer system while gobbling fuel, and make our jump out."
"Where to?"
"I expect they'll want to respond, especially if they think they can catch us in-system after two jumps," she said. "So, we'll jump for Grankum's outer system, and hopefully, have time to charge with the sail while they look for us there. End-state is RTB to Johnson for rearm. Hopefully by then, we'll have reinforcements."
"Captain, that's a bad idea." Larry said. "We're rolling with damage, we're also alone, the enemy's forces are on war-footing, and they're bigger than we thought. I know you want to hurt them, but it doesn't do any good to hurt them if we lose."
Amanda glared. "Are you-"
"Offering options," he said. "If you insist, we'll go ahead and try to wage a maneuver war with one damaged ship, but the better option is to plot a stealth course back to base, get our ammunition refilled, and get updated on what conditions are like first-we're going to run out of consumables, including point defense ammo, and sooner, rather than later."
She glared at her executive officer, then, "You're right." She lost the glare with a plunge into resignation. "Dammit. You're right, Larry."
"I do my best, Ma'am," he said. "Should I start working up the jumps back to Johnson?"
She nodded, "Yeah. Do that." She hesitated, "I promised them I'd look after John."
"We don't know-"
"He's on the casualty listing, 'lost'," she told him. "I screwed it up."
"Everybody does sooner or later," the older man patted her shoulder. "I'm sorry too. He was a good kid, a fine young man."
"Yes, he was." she steeled herself, "Get us back to base, Mister Nichols."
"Ayeh mum."
Fleet Engagement[]
Naval Battle - Quatre Belle star system, Raven Alliance
"Gamma Third…
…reports they have made hull contact on SLS Tokyo and are breaching the airlocks, ovKhan."
"Good," Acton Howe nodded. "Very good… Bring us about sixty degrees positive Z-axis, thirty six degrees port, one half thrust."
The enemy had laid a standard pincer. If nothing else, it showed they at least read the SLDF Tactical Manual and understood the need to englobe and divide.
"Wait for it…" Howe muttered. "Wait for it… now. Engage as we bear."
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Essex II Class Destroyer, SLS Yakutsk
On the screen, the SLS Yakutsk was at optimum range for her main battery…which put the Essex II class escort at optimum range for the much stouter return fire from CSR William Adams, the most complete of the repair-and-refits in the Alliance Naval Star.
Destroyer on Destroyer, but the William Adams had benefit of the assigned Garrison Stars as supports.
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Whirlwind Class Destroyer, CSR Wiliam Adams
Flashes of fire and the streaks of missiles from the garrison's dropships covered the brutal fire from the half of the Whirlwind's batteries that could be brought to action.
The attacker's first salvoes missed almost as if from the textbook.
The Raven fire did not miss.
"Assault team on the Tokyo reports they have secured engineering and CIC, ovKhan, but not before the enemy captain got a distress out."
Acton leaned back in his couch, watching as the rents in the Essex class destroyer Yakutsk spilled fire and bodies.
"Good. The formation will execute a formation turn one nine zero, engage the Syria with all available guns at long range."
"Not Zell." someone muttered.
"This enemy is extremely dezgra," Acton commented. "they do not deserve honor."
"The Syria is coming about and engaging thrust, some of their small craft and fighters are trying to catch up! OvKhan, they are… leaving?"
Acton smiled grimly, "So they are…I want status reports on the rest of the Naval Star, and get more of our suit marines on the Tokyo, we are keeping it."
"Yakutsk is broadcasting surrender signal, sir!!"
"Board and storm, then. We can use it for spare parts. Do not bother being gentle about it either-any resistance is to be terminated immediately."
He sighed, "Comms, contact the garrison at Sevon V, and get me an update on their situation. We may need to divert elements of this force to relieve them."
"Seyla, Ovkhan."
Better equipped than I thought, and more numerous. We need to fix that.
As things stood, the Alliance Naval Star was a possible one hull improvement with the capture of SLS Tokyo and if the Yakutsk turned out to be repairable.
But they'd lost TWO Essex class, the Marshall Ney to mechanical failure, and the Mulhacén to enemy fire in the process, so net loss, unless she could be recovered and rebuilt.
"We have contact with the Sevon Garrison, OvKhan… savashri!!"
'Did they fall?" he asked, worried.
"Neg… Your guest… Helena… 'Ian'?"
"Aff?"
"Brought a Destroyer group and somehow managed to slip it past us, Sevon V is secured."
"Shit." he marveled.
"Sir?"
"Put her on. It is time to be diplomatic."
Diplomacy is another kind of Battlefield[]
The first thing about diplomacy getting official, is meeting rooms. For some reason everyone insists they need to make appointments and arrange press conferences.
Even the Clans.
"What do I address you as, Miss Ian?" Then again, Presidents have staff, so what in the hell was Mitchell Avellar doing sitting in the same room with the Snow Raven Loremaster?
“By right, I am Director-General Helena Cameron. But until we can figure out a way to prove it beyond my word and the uncertainty of your DNA tests that may be a difficult sell to your people. Add in their distaste for anything Star League and it could be tricky,” Helena said adjusting her dress.
Vicky insisted she dress up for this and she knew that she was right. Part of diplomacy was showmanship.
"saKhan Lankeneau couldn't be here, in case you're curious, and Khan Crowe is currently taking a fleet out to Johnson." Mitchell Avellar stated. "In case you were curious. You made a hell of a first impression by running that Texas class off at Sevon V. As a bit of an amatuer historian, I believe Caspar Drones were a Terran Hegemony exclusive. Seeing as Mister Howe has chosen to inform me that we have a mental patient with Elizabeth Cameron's DNA and intense, long term traumas, you may find I'm a more open minded fellow than I might be on your provenance. I'm more interested in what your motives are, than your origin, and whether we can make a deal."
“My motives are simple. I have family out here. My most loyal supporters have family out here. There is a force out here using the name of a cherished institute to justify heinous acts. We had to come. There was no more hiding for us. We all buried our heads in the sand for too long. I bear the brunt of that sin myself.” Helena tried to control her inner turmoil but was not sure how well she was really doing.
"We're at war with the same people." Mitchell said quietly. "So, I take it there are… you've got humans along with those ancient automated warships? It's going to be difficult to coordinate if you don't."
“Some are indeed crewed, but not all. Enough I think we can make this work without alarming too many people.”
"Belta, Folk, or Rockjack?" President Avellar asked. "It could be important later, when we're writing liaison protocol."
“Golden Hind and a fair number of volunteers descended from refugees from much of the Inner Sphere from the Amaris Civil War and Succession Wars. We’re pretty eclectic really,” Helena answered trying to hide a smirk.
"Nobody from Deus Vult or Free Stars though?" he asked, which got a look from Howe. Mitchell glanced at the Snow Raven, "Yes, Acton, I'm familiar with some of the spacer lore out there…"
“If there are, they are keeping it pretty close to their chest.”
"What is so bad about Free Stars?" Acton asked.
"I don't want children going missing when their caravans come through," Mitchell stated. "Free Stars had a rep for stealing children in the Rim Worlds region."
“Golden Hind do value family but they are not cruel or inhumane. They just believe family should take care of family. Sometimes they can get a little zealous about it but they never resort to random kidnapping.”
<Neither did the Freests. They 'recruited' and that was enough to start the legend.> Vicky relayed over the link.
“I do understand the reputation but I can promise they will behave. They actually do not come out this way very often, they prefer the more coreward space lanes. So it should be pretty unlikely they have lost kin out here.” Helena nodded.
"The Clans are going to want a look at any deal." Howe said. "We have four that have shown interest."
“Understandable. We need the allies. We have already paid a terrible price for our victories and if we are going to win this we will have to pay more. We can not turn them away.”
"Normally in a meeting like this, I have to convince the other party to join in," Mitchell noted. "This time, I need to find you legal cover to operate in the Outworlds. You don't have a fixed homeworld, you're not recognized by anyone outside this room… How do you feel about a letter of marque?"
“That would seem the best option at this time. No one would believe that we are the Star League returned, the real one. That has happened too many times now and been proven a false pretense. But I do consider us the last vestige of that institution and one of my duties as First Lord is to come to the aid of signatory members. This Star League will honor its commitments as best it can.”
"Sheila?" Mitchell glanced over, and a young woman in gray woolens came in with a briefcase. "Thank you, dear." he said, and opened the case.
"You had them printed up?" Howe asked.
Avellar gave the Loremaster a put-upon look. "First drafts." he said, and slid a four centimeter stack of double-sided letter copy across the table to Helena. "Read it, mark your intended changes, and sell me on them." he said. "You aren't, formally, mercenaries. You're free spacers under a letter of Marque and Reprisal under the legal authority of the Outworlds Alliance, which means?" he prompted.
"It means we'll be serving as activated reserve forces of the Outworlds Military Command, if I remember the law courses right, for the duration of the conflict, with some freedom to select targets and independent command authority." Helena TOOK those classes in college.
“People will still wonder where the hell we came from but we can craft that story over time to suit our needs. Of course this will be trouble if I understand your other commitments correctly once the war is over.”
"The Republic is going to shit bricks," Mitchell said saltily. "Because by giving you that letter of marque, I'm breaking three or four treasured clauses of the Republic Treaties, we're going to be eating sanctions, and it's worth it because they're down around Terra, and we're out here, and out here is where the problem is."
“Agreed. Idealism is no substitute for reality. The fallout will still hurt as there must still be consequences but this way there will be someone left to face those consequences that is not in chains.”
"I think we're in agreement on the fundamentals, Miss Cameron." Mitchell said quietly.
“With a force as large as what I am bringing in even as semi-independants a liaison is recommended. I do have a candidate in mind once she gets done with some surface leave.”
"Acton?"
"I think the Clan can accept these terms." Howe said. "I have been wrong before, but it looks good. This skirts Grand council rulings and they ARE going to want to make separate arrangements."
“From what I have learned of your people, that is not unexpected. Hell, I expect I may even have to humor some of your ‘trials’ before this is over.” Helena chuckled.
"Just to correct one misapprehension, Lady Cameron, this may be the first steps in bringing the true remnants of the Star League back together. You were never alone," Howe stated. "You were Isolated."
“Kerensky must be turning in his grave right now. He was always afraid of what kind of tyrant I would become, because of how long I lived and how I would inevitably become disconnected from people. He was not entirely wrong. I have been disconnected for a long time and part of that was cowardice on my part. I had justifications but that core reason was always there. The time for such cowardice is over.” Helana laughed lightly.
Howe got a look in his eye. "How about dinner?" he asked. "I can not guarantee I can hold up my end of the conversation, but yours should be fascinating."
“Sounds like a welcome distraction from the grim task ahead of us.” Helena answered.
"And that sounds like my cue to get out of the way… please leave my spymaster intact, Lady Cameron. I still need him." Avellar said, standing up.
“I am a proper lady. So he will be fine as it is just the first date.” Helena bowed her head.
"’Proper' ladies are exactly what are most concerning in my experience, don't break him," the President said with a slight smirk. "I have people to see here on Sevon V, so I'll leave you two to it. Have the signed copies ready for tomorrow's meeting, when you'll meet the military."
And he walked out.
Sad Duty of Reporting Loss of a Family Member[]
Sevon V Star System, Raven Alliance
The Johnson Farm…
…is a 'tributary' to the McKee/Lienfold family of farms on the southeast side of the valley.
Marcus Johnson's family are old Sevonors, but never prosperous Sevonors. A history of being in debt, poor decisions, failed risks, and struggle going back seven hundred years. They were just barely able to hold on to the term 'freeholder', mostly due to sons making careers in things other than farming or business.
Marcus could hear the government car coming up the drive from where he was arms deep in Link Calabaras' cultivator, which had snapped a bearing seal on the second drive motor.
"Lydia!! Who is that?"
Like her husband, Lydia Johnson was almost pushed down by the invisible weight of history-the history of her husband's family, to be sure-but it was an invisible press that seemed to make her smaller, stooped and aged early.
The car stopped, and the driver got out, and opened the rear door.
Samantha Booker Roberts had volunteered for this sad duty. She did not know the young man but someone had to do it and she found she could not bear letting another stranger deliver such news.
Two younger children were in the yard, playing with sticks as if they were the finest of toys.
The pure innocence of human children had been what drew her closer to humanity in the first place.
Her memories of teaching Stacy about semi-solid semi-liquid viscosity and Newton’s laws of motion made her smile slightly as she watched the children.
She made her way towards the adults, straightening her uniform.
As much as she wanted to do this she found she did not even know how to start.
She had never had to do this before.
“Mister and Missus Johnston?” Their similar name to another lost sister was another reason she had to do this.
"What's this about?" Marcus hid anxiety behind suspicion.
“I have news about your son…” Samantha was still trying to figure out what to say.
“I am afraid he was lost in action at Grankum.” She decided to be direct.
"But…but JOHNNY Was on a Ship!! how could he be lost!?" Mrs. Johnson wasn't nearly as reserved as her husband, and Samantha saw it for the first time in real-the desperate, searching eyes, the shock and the hope that was grief. "He was on a Ship!!"
"Seventy of his fellow crewmen aboard OWS Illusive were also lost at Grankum."
The hard look on Marcus Johnson's face didn't loosen a bit, "Did the rest of his mates get out?" he asked.
“The vessel returned safely with many injured crew but yes.”
"Did he…was he a good sailor?" Marcus pressed. "Did he do it right?" Those hard eyes had some past that was hard. Harder than a scrub farmer on the poor side of the valley.
“Yes. His record is filled with excellent marks from his superiors.”
She saw the man take his wife in one arm, a comforting embrace. "And the body?"
"We…it was unrecoverable." Samantha said.
Marcus nodded, "So it'll be an empty casket then."
“Yes.” Samantha almost said nothing. Maybe she should have.
"Well, Director, or is it 'Captain'?" he asked. "Will you be a part of the service?"
“You know my proper title is a good question. I am not sure what would be most appropriate… But yes if you wish for me to be there I would be honored.”
"When I was in the service the papers said one rank, but we all ken who was Captain," Johnson told her. "Mind mine was relatively quiet. His effects being shipped then?"
“I am doing everything I can to ensure they are.”
Marcus nodded, "Thank you, I'd invite you to dinner, but I cogitate you have your own duties and there's a war on. Thank you for your service, Ma'am."
“Thank you for allowing me the honor. Here. A dropbox account you can reach me at if there is anything else you need.” Samantha handed Marcus a card.
He accepted it, then watched her leave. He'd have to call Calabaras and tell him it would be a few more days before his machine was ready.
There was family business to be seen to.
Family Reunion[]
The first impression…
…of the Roberts place, was not that different from relayed impressions of the Johnsons, except everything was newer, in better shape, and obsessively neat and tidy. This was Amanda's father's place.
Prosperity dripped from the paint, the fields were greener, the trees in the orchard, lush instead of straggling, and Natalie Roberts met the car in the drive.
She had the Drillson nose that Helena's mother did, and the same eyes as her memory of her sister. "I was warned about you." wasn't the most welcoming welcome Helena could have expected. "Jeffrey, go inside."
"Yes, mother." he hurried into the house.
"Are you here to tell me my daughter is dead? Or missing?" Mrs. Roberts asked in a cold demand.
“No. I was hoping to spend time with long lost family. One more time before I must depart.” Helena answered.
"Those genetic tests." Natalie nodded. "Thank you for getting Jeff out of holding and come inside." Her mein was slightly warmer, but only slightly.
“It was the least I could do. It was helping no one leaving him there,” Helena answered.
There was a sign over the stove in the kitchen, 'there's no reason to fight!' in florid relief.
"You know that I don't approve of my daughter's choice of career." Natalie asserted. "And now, it's cost the Johnsons their oldest boy too."
“Someone has to do it. Freedom, prosperity, life untouched by the hands of evil is not free. It must be opposed. Sometimes that means fighting. And yes the price is people’s lives. If the cause is just and the leader wise then at least it will mean that people like you can live your life the way you see fit.” Helena snapped.
"But do you KNOW when it's a just war. And not just another war?" Natalie asked civilly, but there was a hissing in her eyes.
“I know this one is just. The Sons of Plunder were coming here. They were looking to haul people just like you away to be their pets, slaves, or whatever sick term they wish to use for when they deprive you of your humanity.” Helena steadied her tone.
"I'm being a poor hostess, you've traveled a long way, Helena dear, would you care for some tea?"
“Thank you, that would be lovely.” Helena smiled.
The elder Mrs. Roberts brought out a glass container with a spigot, filled with red-brown transparent liquid that had sliced limes floating in it, and two glasses with frost on them from a cooling cabinet.
There were family photos up on the freezer cabinet, images of a husband who looked for all the world like he could be Helena's grandfather in his prime, old lord Drillson who drank too much at Father's christmas parties, and the sons she'd met, and the grandchildren.
A gap-toothed eight or ten year old girl with dirty knees under a ruined sunday dress, grinning defiantly at the camera while holding up a newly born lamb, still wet and slick.
“Reminds me of Stacey.” Helena let slip.
None of Amanda's photos on this mini album looked more recent than that, as if her adulthood was being ignored.
"They're always a bundle of surprises at that age." Natalie agreed. “She was nine, and she went straight to the pens right from church that morning. She cried like a waterfall the next spring when we took that lamb to slaughter."
“The only reason Stacey did not do that on me is we were not on a farm in those days. Yet she still seemed to find ways to get dirty and cause havoc. But I was the same at her age. I was so bored in school because it was all so easy for me. So I acted out to fill the time.”
"Children always get dirty. I swear when Amanda was in a clean room, she could find the dirt." There was a wistful fondness there.
“Would not trade it for anything though.” Helena laughed.
"Time," Natalie said. "I would trade anything to have it back…to have my little girl back, and whole, and herself." The older woman paused. "The way She Was. They did things to her." Here was fear, like a wave, and grief-mourning.
It hit Helena. She's already mourned her daughter's death.
“Your daughter is still there though. I know it. You know how I know it? A fat man with a laser pistol did this to me and for a long time afterwards I was lost. It took time, far too much time but I clawed back out. Yes I am different now but I am still me. Your daughter can do the same. She is strong. Maybe stronger than either of us imagine. Certainly stronger than me.” Helena pointed at her cybernetic eye.
"I thought so too, Helena, but she dismantled five armed men without so much as a blink of an eye. The girl who cried her eyes out over a lamb, is a killer of men. MY Amanda is gone."
“Only if you give up. That is the only certain way to lose something. It is hard and terrible at times but that is the cost of living,” Helena answered.
"Jeffrey! Prep the Guest Bedroom!!" Natalie barked and in another room, she heard…
"Yes, mother!"
"He had so much potential." Natalie shook her head. "The Grissoms canceled out. I'll never find him a wife who's worth anything."
“He seems rather young for that yet.” Helena winked at Jeffery.
"He's almost Twenty Three, Helena. His brother was seventeen when he married Samantha Ross. By Jeff's age, his first son was already on the way. Of course, that one died in the crib, but Sam brought two fine young sons after."
“I suppose you are right, I am a bit old fashioned that way and forget that people get married that young. A consequence for growing up where I did.”
"I thought I picked up a bit of Alpheratz in your speech." Natalie said approvingly.
“Not quite, but yes I grew up in high society. As much as I was a tomboy I did still love getting dressed up for the fancy parties.” Helena smiled.
This led to a book of holos and flat images. Harvest festivals, Cielidhs (Pronounced "Kay-Lee") and similar formal gatherings.
Helena came prepared this time. She produced her own photo album of Stacey growing up on Lazarus.
Right before dark, Mister Roberts pulled into the drive, and came walking up to the door. He was big, like his oldest son, whom Helena had already met, and again with the uncanny resemblances. Two Cameron lines it had to be, or it had to be some stripe of inbreeding that didn't seem to make sense. <Mendellian genetics, Helena,> Simon suggested. <Two families got doses of Cameron genes, and they cycled through until they linked back up again.>
<Stacey did leave home a long time ago. I would think that there is actually quite a few drops of Cameron blood floating out there now. So makes sense.> Helena smiled.
"Natalie! Have Jeff make up the spare room, we've got a guest!" he announced. Then he saw Helena.
"Two guests," he amended, with some surprise, as a frail looking middle aged woman stopped.
"Who is this?" Natalie demanded.
"Jane?" he said.
Elizabeth Cameron hesitantly stepped in. "Hi."
"You were supposed to talk to me!!" Natalie's hostess demeanour vanished instantly, revealing something else underneath.
"She has nowhere else to go, Nat, and I saw the tests. She's Family!!" He growled, "And she's traumatized, but after the hospital on Quatre Belle was hit,they don't have room for her!"
Helena wanted to leap out of her seat and hug her sister, but she found herself frozen instead. Why was she still so afraid?
"Uh, I can wait in the-"
"You can follow my son to your room, Jane." the old man asserted. "And know you're safe here, and welcome…isn't. That. Right. Natalie, Dear?"
"Of course…" Mrs. Roberts' image of hostess was back, like a mask. Like mother's masks Helena remembered. "It's the christian thing to do."
“Hello. I am Helena. Pleased to meet you, Jane. I hope you don’t mind a roommate?” Helena gathered her courage.
"It's fine." Elizabeth said hesitantly, "I'm…I'm Jane, Jane..ah…the paperwork says 'Jane Doe', but they said I can have a different name if I want, so Jane Drillson."
"Nice to meet you, Jane Drillson."
Mister Roberts smiled, "Well, we'll have a full house for the first time in years."
You can be Jane now Elizabeth. You’re alive and safe. I will always love you. That is what matters. Helena silently prayed.
"She…they both…" Jeffrey started to say, and a stern look from his father shut his mouth.