Terra, Wolf Empire

17 June 3153

The sunglasses on saKhan Chance Vickers’s face were both to try to conceal her identity and to keep eyestrain to a minimum. Even with a “good new eye”, Chance would almost have preferred to keep the cybernetic implant, as it would not require her to readapt to a new body part. People in the medical clinic would know she was someone of some import, having a pair of burly Elementals paramilitary policemen flanking her, but she hoped nobody could put two and two together. Cameras and such were mostly on her ilKhan, Alaric Ward. Most freebirth on Terra would not recognize most of the other members of the Clan. At least, so she hoped.

Chance had decided to go to a freebirth medical clinic to avoid questions and worries from meeting with some Clan medical specialist. Everybody was already on edge with the Fortress Wall having fallen, the Capellans breathing down their neck rim ward and the Hell’s Horses fighting them core ward. The warriors of Clan Wolf were now making do with worse equipment than usual, with weapons flowing in from the Sea Fox and the factories on Terra replenishing what they could. They did not need to know that the saKhan had some minor health issue. On the third floor of a small office building, the medical clinic was packed with sniffling kids, young men with broken limbs coming in for check-ups, older folks that probably had to come in every other month to make sure they would not fall over. Chance wondered just how uncomfortable her escorts were, the plastic chair being uncomfortable for her smallish stature already. She was flipping through one of the provided magazines, thoughtlessly, some fashion thing for working women and young mothers. It was dated 3147, of course, but it might have been some of the more recent book in the pile near the reception. A trio of secretaries kept answering the phone and calling for patients to go to this or that office.

“Hey mister Clan man, sir. How much can you lift?” The child asking the question to Point Commander Steven must have been around 9 years old, thought Chance. She nodded to the Point Commander, who replied, meekly “I bench about 440.” The kid’s eyes went the size of Star League dollars: “Wow, my dad, he’s sitting over there, see, he can do 240. You’re strong!” Chance glanced at the man in question, a middle aged freebirth in an amazing physical shape… outside of a broken leg. Not all freebirth are inferior, after all. Phelan Kell-Ward should remain a reminder of this to the Wolves, her mind wandered. Her good eye surveyed the room, her new eye feeling sluggish. Nobody here was a threat, and likely nobody here were warriors in any way, shape or form. If they were members of a Clan, they would generally be members of the labour caste, maybe a few merchants. But those were “true Earthlings”, the original humans for the entire Inner Sphere.

“Chance Vickers, Chance Vickers, with Doctor Duschatel, room 414. Chance Vickers, with Doctor Duschatel, room 414, second call.” The saKhan snapped out of her daze as the bored secretary called her name for the second time, and an older man in scrubs was waiting next to corridor leading to the offices. She got up, fixed the summer dress she had borrowed to be more incognito, and powerwalked to the office. Hopefully nobody would link her name to who she was. Her two escort followed her until she dismissed them with a hand motion, the two of them going back to sit on the too-small, gray plastic chairs. Point Commander Steven went to talk to the boy’s father, she noticed.

Doctor Duschatel was an older man, probably in his mid sixties, but with a full head of hair and a massive, bushy white beard. He would have been a great Santa Claus, Chance quickly thought. Inner Sphere kids still liked the “jolly old man”. She crossed the door into the small office, which was better furnished than most Clan medical office she had seen. Potted plants by the window, a painting by an unknown artist on the wall and the doctor’s chair made some ‘Mech command chair look cheap. “If you’ll excuse me, people always wonder about the chair,” started the doctor. “Yes, it is a command chair for a BattleMaster. Been in my family for a few generations.” An ice breaker, to put her at ease. This man was not just good at his job, she thought.

“So, what can we help you with today, saKhan Vickers?” The old doctor smiled kindly at her, something she was not used to from medical officers. “I have been having some issues lately, and I did not want to bother our medical staff with it since they are busy…” Excuses. Chance knew those were just excuses. She did not know what her problem was, and hoped it was not something to do with her new eye. “I see, I see,” replied Doctor Duschatel. “I don’t have your medical record or anything, but please, let’s start with a few things.” The next few things were customary questions. Her age, they weighed and measured her, he had her take off the sunglasses and he did a quick test on both her eyes. He knew she had gotten a replacement implanted in, the scars were still there. He asked for other antecedents.

“Honestly, saKhan Vickers, you are in pretty good shape,” said the doctor. “Yes, the new eye is still a bit weaker than your original, but nothing to worry about there.” His glance at her made Chance Vickers feel like she was being quizzed, like back at the sibko. She knew all of that, and he knew she knew all of that and that there was something else going on. “Well, Doctor, I have been having some issues recently, and I am not sure if it is related to the eye, quiaff,” launched the MechWarrior. “I would have guessed so,” replied Doctor Duschatel. “Clan medical science is still about a hundred years ahead of even the best Spheroid one. If you came to see me, there must be a good reason for it.”

Chance swallowed deeply, closed her eyes and reviewed the symptoms she had been going through. “I have frequent nauseas recently, combined with being more tired than usual.” The doctor was nodding, nothing things down on a pad. “Even during the day, I have frequent stomach aches, and I am far more tired than usual.” The doctor showed a small smile but did not say anything. “I have never felt this way before, even right after the implant. I fear that something is wrong with the optic nerve or…” The old man coughed to get her attention: “We’ll just do a few quick tests here. Open your mouth and give me your finger.” Chance never liked getting mouth swabs, just one of those things that always bugged her since she was a sibkin. Quick poke on the finger and Doctor Duschatel took a few drops of her blood. A Rapid Test Analyser was on his desk, where he put both the samples, before waiting a few seconds for the results. Those had been around since forever now, but this was also a place where Clan technology had spread to the Inner Sphere, moving test speeds from minutes to seconds.

“When was your last period, Miss Vickers?” “SaKhan Vickers,” replied the woman, coldly. “Doesn’t change my question,” he replied. What does that have to do with anything, she thought. “I cannot remember,” she answered. “It has been a little while, maybe?” The doctor smiled behind his beard, “The answer is really simple, Miss Vickers.” She glared at him again. Why does he keep forgetting my rank. Maybe going to see a freebirth doctor had been a bad idea? She knew the test results were in, so why would he be asking such a silly question.

“You’re pregnant.” Her mind started racing. Steady access to basic contraceptives had not been easy since the Battle of Terra. She and Alaric still met frequently, when both were available of course. She understood basic biology, but had never expected things to be so… simple. What were the probabilities of getting pregnant? At her age? Her logical mind was more interested in crunching the numbers than actually processing the fact of what was happening.

“I would assume you know the father,” Doctor Duschatel asked. “OF COURSE I DO,” Chance yelled. She could not control it. “I assume I know the father as well,” the doctor said, kindly. “But I now assume this wasn’t planned.” He had pulled out a prescription pad, noting things down furiously, completely from memory. “At your age, there are risks related to pregnancies, increased probability of miscarriage being the first of them. Gestational diabetes and hypertension are also quite likely, which means…” Chance was still shocked as the doctor made a list of things that could happen to her, and her baby. That was the part that was harder for her. A freeborn child to the ilKhan, could she let that happen? “With advances in medical science, especially Clan genetic therapy, the problem with chromosomal issues is now very low. Are you listening to me, Miss Vickers?” She nodded. She heard the words, and her analytical mind was processing them like military positions in a battle. Being on Yorii or on the Capellan front might have been easier than processing what was going on now.

The doctor had stopped talking and was looking at the saKhan, smiling. He was not mocking her, she realized that now. He was acting like he should, like a kindly doctor helping an expectant mother. “Can I still get an abortion,” she asked. Doctor Duschatel shrugged and answered, “Is it really what you want?” Chance stumbled, trying to find an answer. “Well, I mean, the kid would be freeborn and, I mean you know the father and his position, and…” The doctor kept a neutral face. He is good, thought Chance. He doesn’t want to put any answers in my mouth. She kept babbling for about a minute, trying to make excuses for her behavior, and why having a child now would not be a good idea. “I don’t understand the Clan way of life, Miss Vickers,” the doctor stopped her with. “But I understand expecting mothers. I have 3 kids myself, one of them having a learning disability. It’s not easy, especially at an older age. You do have a strong support network, let’s say, with your Clan. Sibkos are created every couple of months, you can give them up to the sibko system if required.”

“But he would be freebirth,” she exclaimed. “Diana Pryde was freeborn. So was Phelan Kell-Ward,” he replied. “His parents would also both be trueborn MechWarrior phenotypes, meaning that, genetically, he is closer to a trueborn than most of these freeborn.” Do not know Clan society, eh, Chance thought. You are quoting things most people do not normally know this easily. “Abortion is a rough thing, Miss Vickers. Some people look at it as an easy way out of a tough situation. For some, it is the only solution available. But what about you? And what of the father?” Chance mind stopped for a second. What would Alaric think? He had just come back from Yorii now, a rough battle against the Hell’s Horses. She could meet with him easily, of course, and ask him his thoughts on the situation. “What do you think I should do,” she asked, hiding her stress. The doctor leaned back, the command couch making a nice, comfortable creaking sound. “Talk to the father. I know you don’t have a mother or father, at least, not directly, but talk to someone you trust. This is a big decision, saKhan Vickers.”

“You can call me Miss Vickers, or Chance,” she replied. They spoke for a few more minutes, she received a prescription for a variety of health supplements (“The size of horse pills, I’m afraid,” the doctor had said), along with a note explaining future discomfort she would feel. She closed the door behind her and put her sunglasses back on. In the waiting room, Point Commander Steven was rough housing with the labourer’s child as the father laughed. The other paramilitary policeman looked like a giant sitting on a stool made for a fairy princess. There were a lot of kids in the office. Even those she knew were sick looked so good now.

Terra, Wolf Empire

19 June 3153

SaKhan Chance Vickers had asked to meet with him for the past two days, but ilKhan Alaric Ward was busy. Wars to plan, defense of the realm to strategize. They had beaten Amirault’s Horses, but now Peter Cobb or Fulk Lassenerra would come knocking with more troops again. The Capellans were playing around on worlds close to Earth and near their shared border with the Wolf Empire. Alaric knew that Duke Humphreys would stop putting pressure on Daoshen Liao soon, Andurien having to face the fact that they fomented a war between the Froncian and Aurigans. Daoshen’s sister, and Humphreys’s wife, was also in the same boat with her Magistracy. They needed to make sure they would not lose face against the other Rimward powers or the Marian Hegemony. Sending messages through Lloyd’s of New London was also the best Alaric could do. The HPG network was still down on so many worlds he controlled. The massive investment in germanium to repair and refit the HPG cores was costing him more than he had ever expected. The Sea Foxes are critical to this whole operation, he thought. Same with those “consultants” and “engineers” based off Caph. Who knew the megacorporations were so… mega?

Mori Hawker had returned from the Aurigan front, a massive victory in his belt, with enough new BattleMechs to provide two clusters of new Wolf warriors with machines. Nothing super advanced, nothing as good as the Savage Wolves Alaric would have loved getting, but it was what he was able to get. The Ghost Bear had given him an idea of their troops and their position, which the Watch had mostly confirmed. The Nova Cats were in a rough spot in Marik space, but he knew he could count on them for most things. The Smoke Jaguars were asking for worlds of their own to settle, which he was now had to consider. He had lost worlds to the Free Worlds League and Lyran Commonwealth already. Max Ergen’s new Clan had been gifted Yorii. Maybe if they won worlds fighting the Capellans, he would have some to give the Jaguars to settle on. Stephanie Chistu’s Falcons had reclaimed as much of their territory as they could and squashed any revolt brewing in their Occupation Zone. He wished the Falcon’s Khan gave a new name to their territory. It was no longer an Occupation Zone if it was officially where they resided.

The ilKhan collapsed on his chair overlooking the holotable displaying the Inner Sphere, centered on his new capital of Terra. War was still everywhere. The Draconis Combine and the Federated Suns had restarted their battle with a new major offensive on both sides. The Lyrans were trying to reclaim some worlds from the Hell’s Horses. Who knew what was really going on in the Free Worlds League. If only taking Terra had been the end of it, at least for a while. When the Wall was still up, he could at least hide and rebuild while he left tendrils here and there as a show of force. Now, “the prize” was open for anyone to come and take it.

The door to the office opened and closed as Alaric shook his head awake. SaKhan Chance Vickers walked in, timidly. That was not normal for her, he thought. “SaKhan, yes, I have been expecting you,” he bumbled out. “You were the one wanting to meet with me, quiaff?” She walked forward, and rather than sitting across him to look at the holotable, she came closer and sat on a chair right next to him. This is odd, pondered the ilKhan. She can see the situation much better from the other side of the table. “Look, Alaric, this is going to be a little bit strange,” his old friend and confidant said. “I guess… You know…”

“Get to the point, saKhan,” said Alaric, curtly. He was tired, and his emotion ran short. “Alaric, I’m pregnant,” she replied. The ilKhan stopped for a second, trying to say something, but no words came out. “How did that happen,” he asked. “Well, we got intimate before you left for Yorii, and I would assume that this is when it happened,” she replied. Alaric rubbed the stubble on his chin, before running a hand through his chestnut hair. “I mean, it is always a possibility, quiaff,” he began. “Have you made a decision in regard to the child?” Chance Vickers response cut him like a vibroblade: “Well, neg. I wanted to talk to you about it first. Since you are the father, after all.” This was another blow to Alaric Ward, mighty Khan of Clan Wolf, and ilKhan of the ilClan.

“I mean, you are certain that,” the Khan said, already knowing the response. Chance gave him a clear, confirming look. “If you are pregnant, I will not be putting you in charge of the fight against the Capellans for now. Galaxy Commander Miriam Shaw will have to do.” His mind wandered back to military tactics and planning. This, he had control over. This new situation, he had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.

“Miriam is a competent commander, Alaric, you need not worry about the fight for our survival. I have gotten an agreement with RPA on Dieron for them to start manufacturing new Blood Reapers last week. Local production of the new line of IIC machines by Skobel has been a success as well, our warriors greatly appreciating…” She stopped mid-sentence. The two of them laughed, nervously. Talking war was so much easier than talking about… whatever this was.

“You are keeping the child, quiaff,” Alaric asked. “I was thinking we might,” Chance said nonchalantly. “This would be a freeborn son or daughter of our two bloodhouses, and a symbol for our people, in a way.” The ilKhan laughed, nervously. He could not help but smile, which was unexpected both for him and the saKhan. Alaric pulled up a calendar on the holotable, filled with production schedules and deployment information. “The child would be due in… 8 months,” he calculated. “Doctor Duschatel said probably in early to late December,” his lover replied. “That early. That is good. Which cluster is that doctor with? This is an odd name,” Alaric said, ponderously. “His full name is Michel Duschatel. He is a local Calgary medical doctor.” Alaric laughed, and Chance could feel something weird in him. He was always so serious, so focused. Rather than the joy of war and victory, Alaric was showing some sort of joy Chance had never seen from him, and this raised her morale as well. She had not known how the ilKhan would have taken the news, and this felt… strangely natural.

“You are okay with this Alaric, quiaff,” asked Chance, tentatively. “Well, it is a situation which we need to evaluate, but not completely unexpected,” Alaric continued. “As First Lord of the Star League, securing an heir is a good thing.” He sounded confused. “Even if we are to do trials to determine the next ilKhan, if people know that my bloodline is secure, it should put people at ease. Did you know that none of the high lords of the Great Houses have heirs, outside of Daoshen and his younger sister?” SaKhan Chance Vickers was well-aware of the political situation in the Inner Sphere, obviously. She had already written a contingency plan for Alaric to take over the Lyran crown once Trillian Steiner died… maybe not of natural causes. But she knew now that he was just talking to work through the situation. “Would you want them to be properly raised in a sibko,” asked Chance. “Or should we, you know, set up a system…”

Alaric put his hand on her face and sighed, before he kissed her, far more tenderly than he normally would. “We will worry about this later, for now, let us just celebrate this happy moment.” Chance knew she loved this man, probably not in the same way she used to. Things had now changed, but was it a change for the better? Maybe only time would tell. Alaric switched the Holotable settings off and they kept talking for another hour, or two… or for the rest of the day.

Back to Vengeance.