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Spirit rolled her head as she strode into the command tent, pretending like she wasn't freshly discharged from the medical tent and under strict orders to not engage in any form of combat for at least twenty-four hours (orders that she, of course, fully intended to ignore if need be). She swiped a datapad from one of the terminals, bypassed the security measures with frankly concerning ease (the SLDF really needed to find a better digital security system), and began tapping through intercepted Blakist propaganda reels, trying to discern if her antics were having the intended effect.
The heretics will be driven from the shores of Helios, the infidels will burn in the Heliosan sun, rise up and join the militia, etc cetera, etc cetera. Come on, show me some new material...
"Ooooh," she commented, startling Savannah - whom she was nearly right behind. "This is new. 'The witch Spirit and her hated raiders will be driven away and made to repent for their transgressions.' What do you think? Blakists making promises they cannot fulfill yet again, or something we might actually have to care about?"
"Jesus, FUCK!" Savannah whispered, jumping slightly, and turning to Spirit. "Stop that! Gonna give me a heart attack," she breathes.
"Stop doing what?" Spirit asked. Savannah knew her well enough to know that she was grinning beneath her mask, the coy bitch.
She offered the datapad to Savannah, a series of headlines directly naming and condemning Spirit in clear view.
" I'm getting you later, " she half-snarled, her tone playful, taking the datapad. "Anyway, let's see..."
"Hmmm..." she said, watching for a minute or so. She watched as the Blakist propagandist, one of three the SLDF forces had begun to hear on the news feeds. This one, known only as Preacher Paul, was the most fundamentalist and brimstone-and-hellfire of the three. He was clearly ROM, and Manei Domini, and the drinking game around his use of the words "holy", "fire", and "cleansing" had already sent at least five SLDF soldiers to the MedTechs. But because he was closest in temperament to the Word everyone expected, his announcements usually garnered more attention.
The other two propagandists, Holy Holly, and Angel Angie, were comparatively tame. Holy Holly focused mostly on news of "new" Blakist tech and weapons, and clearly enjoyed her job getting to shoot them, but was gear porn, not much else.
The interesting one was Angel Annie. The closet comparison Savannah could come up with was to cross a big time news anchor with a megachurch priest. Talked a lot about the softer side of the Word - or what she said was the softer side, anyway.
Definitely skimming from the collections plate, but probably wasn't gonna buy nukes with them.
"Well, it's Preacher Paul saying it, so, maybe, but probably not," Savannah said. "Really fucking funny they still seem to think you're an actual witch. I wonder if that's genuine, or just a line getting fed to them. I mean, I'm sure the poor saps you did 'rituals' on might believe it, but most of the Blakies probably just wanna kill you, be done with it, and go back to fuckin' their toasters," she chuckles.
"Faith does funny things," Spirit replied with a shrug. "Especially when you are as... questionably sane as Preacher Paul. Puts the fun in fundamentalist, he does."
She gestured to one of the more recent videos released. "What interests me is, Paul--and Angie, when she speaks of me--do not solely mention me. They mention Task Force Hawk, too. It makes me wonder; do they know about my acts before the landing? Or do they think that my soldiers deployed with me?"
She scrolled down slightly, pointing to a video from a day after the initial landings. "And this intrigues me: this was released before I officially took command of Task Force Hawk, but it names me like I was in command."
"Because they don't bother checking, for TF Hawk and for your prior actions. They also seem to be attributing everything to you, even after Droneboy joined you," Savannah, referring to Hustler One.
"It's classic propaganda - turn the enemy into one monolithic force of evil, with a defined leader to act as a hate sink, and attribute actions of subordinates to said leader to continue the hate train."
"You willingly put yourself out there to be seen. Not me or Melissa or anyone else, so... their logical reaction surprises you?"
"It is not the fact that their reaction is logical that surprises me. It is how... willing they are to use it." Spirit put a hand to her chin. "Look at it this way. You are offered a choice: make your enemy wear the face of a long-lived, but mortal, woman who is very much capable of being killed, or make your enemy wear the face of an unkillable witch with glowing eyes who uses arcane powers to teleport between shadows and kill with impunity, who has already cheated death once. Which do you choose?"
Spirit let Savannah ponder for a moment, then continued. "It also reveals deficiencies in their intelligence-gathering. They have not attributed the attacks prior to the landing to me, which can only be because they have no idea they even happened. They have the date that I took command of Task Force Hawk wrong, which means that they were likely unaware that I only took command recently. And, it reveals that they may not be aware who is leading this force in the first place, or else they would be naming General Hazen.
"Functionally, they are letting us dictate the narrative. I want to know why. Can they not find a better propaganda target than the one I have offered them, or is my work so effective that they are scrambling to counteract the effect I am having on their morale?"
"I mean, it's possible both are true at once. You're the best target they have, precisely because your work has been so good at cratering morale. You get me?"
"If their propaganda department is any good, then they should be aware that they are playing directly into our hands," Spirit replied. "This is... amateur work. Hell, all three of the talking heads put out responses to my little threat to the Precentor-ROM; anyone can tell that the video rattled them. Why make it so obvious?"
Something was nagging at Spirit. One single missing puzzle piece.
Spirit, lost in thought, almost didn't register the mask on her mask being pulled down, and even when she did, the thought didn't surface until she heard Savannah's whispered, honeyed words in her ear.
"You're thinking too much." Those were the words, followed immediately by a slow and loving kiss to Spirit's makeup-blackened lips.
People were looking. Savannah didn't care.
The sound Spirit made was something between a surprised squeak and a muffled word that she gave up on halfway through. Her eyes widened just slightly, and then softened. She brought one hand up to cup Savannah's cheek and gently, so gently, ran a thumb over it before breaking the kiss and pulling her mask back up.
"Savannah," she whispered. "I love you like a planet loves its sun, but please. Not here."
"Fine," Savannah whispered back. " We'll continue later," she finished, tone brooking no argument.
"Anything else interesting, now that I've disrupted your chain of thought?"
Spirit was more flustered than she cared to admit. Considerably more.
"I... maybe?" she managed to answer without stammering too much. Founder, why was she so hot all of a sudden? "I believe I was... fuck, give me a moment..."
Savannah smiled softly, clearly proud of what she'd managed to do - fluster the seemingly unflusterable - but her mood was tempered with knowing that Spirit was floundering slightly. The smile didn't last too long.
"Hey, should we, y'know?" she said, indicating the exit of the tent with a tilt of her. It was not said in a flirty tone, but a concerned one. "To protect your rep, and all."
Spirit took a breath, in and out, slow and measured, before replying.
"That... is a lost cause," she murmured. "Soldiers love gossip. You and I will be the talk of the camp, I am sure."
She leaned closer, like she was going to whisper in Savannah's ear.
"I don't want you in the crosshairs because of me," she murmured. "I am already worried about our efforts backfiring. If the Blakists did something to you, in order to get to me... I could never forgive myself."
"Spirit... love," Savannah whispered, stopping from saying Eliza's name aloud, her tone somber.
"I'm worried about the exact same thing. I'm worried about you being in the crosshairs, instead of me. I'm fine being shot at. Being a declared Cameron makes no difference - sure maybe a few more people might come for me, but I'm in a 'Mech, they'll shoot at me anyway," she said.
"But you? I don't... you already been shot once, I wouldn't want that to happen on account of me... for one thing, Mariya would kill me."
"Do I need to remind you that I am hiding my face specifically for her safety?" Spirit demanded, before catching herself and dragging in a breath. After taking a moment to recompose, she continued. "I came here to protect your life. If I am shot, then so be it. If I am killed, then so be it. I am a nameless ghost with a spooky reputation. At worst a few historians will be confused by my legacy. If you die, then the Inner Sphere goes to war over your body, Savannah. Billions, maybe trillions, would die. I... I cannot subject you to a risk like that, beloved."
"I know, love. I know all of what you're saying, I understand it, and I deeply appreciate it. But I choose to disregard my own safety in favor of yours. And Anya's. And that of Melissa. Because I love you," Savannah countered. "Because by putting myself out there, I can make things better for those I love. That's what matters to me now. If I have to be a Cameron, by God, I'll drag this fucking Sphere into a better place; for you, for Anya, for Melissa, for everyone.”
There was a confidence and fire in her voice that hadn’t been there just a few days ago.
"I can do that, or at least try. Yeah, it makes me a target. Just like my whole family has always been targets, all the way since Michael himself," she said, dropping the name of the 2nd Director-General of the Terran Hegemony, a reminder of just how long her family line truly is. "The risk is inherent in my very name, Spirit. There's nothing I can do to keep that away. So... I am happy that it's you protecting me. But just know that I want to protect you too."
She leaned in to whisper into Spirit's ear.
"You know that... I almost told you before? On Tukayyid. All those years ago. When you showed me their graves? I... It almost felt right."
"I... am glad you did not," Spirit murmured back.
Savannah raised an eyebrow.
Spirit glanced around the tent. Some people were watching; others were pretending not to. Too many eyes for Spirit's taste; too many ears for their conversation to go unheard.
"Follow me, my Lady," she half-requested, half-ordered, leading Savannah out of the command tent and to somewhere more secluded. Once they were there, she turned back to face Savannah.
Her fake accent faded.
"On Tukayyid. I'm glad you didn't tell me. If... if you had... I would've been compelled, by oath and rede, to defend you. I... couldn't have. Not like I am now."
Spirit took a breath. Deep in, long out.
"But that doesn't matter now. What does matter is that I can't let you be in the crosshairs, my love. I know you want to change the Inner Sphere for the better, and I support that, fully, but you can't do that if you get killed."
She cupped a hand to Savannah's cheek. "I love you too much to see you fail because some Blakist basket-case found out that he could harm me through you."
Savannah reciprocated the gesture lovingly.
"Well, we'll just have to make sure - as best we can with our respective stations - that neither of us gets harmed, won't we, love? Because if I change the Sphere for the better, but you aren't there to see it with me?"
She pauses to pull down the mask to kiss Eliza, before pulling it back up over Spirit's face.
"I will have failed. And I don't want to fail. Not now. Not with so much that I love on the line."
"You're dodging my request, Savannah," Spirit muttered. "It isn't subtle. If we're to minimize the risk of you dying, we can't risk things like public kisses. It's one thing if you're flirting with me; you do that with everyone. It's another if I reciprocate. Quiaff?"
"Aff..." she said reluctantly. "But that means you don't get to complain in private, if you're making me bottle up my feelings in public. That wouldn't be fair. Quiaff?"
A brief pause.
"That said. We're in our own camp, Eliza. We were inside a tent. If the Blakists were able to see that, then they would've been able to kill right then and there. So I think the definition of "public" needs to shift a little bit. Like, outside, in the open, of course. That's sensible. That's inviting a sniper, I won't do that. But inside, out of line of sight, in a controlled friendly area? That should be fine, quiaff? There's no harm there. There's already gossip and rumors and shipping flying about. It started the moment we ordered those soldiers out of the room a few days ago. That cat is very out of the bag–and you're forgetting something too. The Blakists don't seem to know I'm here, and even if they did, they likely wouldn't know who I am. Considering we've cut all outside communication, they can't have seen those broadcasts about me. And if they had, they would've tried to assassinate me by now. But they haven't. If they've gotten pictures of me at all, I'm wearing "Caruso" on the nametape anyway. Nothing on me says Cameron. I've lived that way for a long, long time, Eliza."
"There is gossip about 90% of the soldiers in this operation," Spirit countered. "Half of my soldiers are fucking, the other half are considering it, and there are at least ten separate rumours of a Canopian-Taurian relationship and twice that of Canopian-Aurigan ones. We can explain away ordering a few soldiers out of a room; going over classified information, discussing future strategies, whatever. We can't explain away you kissing me. My point isn't that the Blakists will target you because you could bring ruin to the Inner Sphere, Savannah, my point is that they'll target you to get to me and cause the Inner Sphere to wipe itself out by accident!"
Spirit's voice fell from casual—which given how quietly she normally spoke, was almost shouting—to a murmur. She seemed to shrink in on herself.
Deep in. Long out.
"...do you know why I tell you that I love you like a planet loves its sun, Savannah?"
Somewhat reeling from Spirit's almost-outburst, Savannah simply answered, "I think I do. But tell me anyway."
This last was a whispered apology, spoken with regret. Regret for making Spirit keep talking in circles.
Regret for letting her playfulness and irreverence go too far.
Regret for angering Eliza.
She also shrunk away in that moment.
She needed to hear this.
Spirit took one of Savannah's hands in both of hers, one hand under, one hand over.
"Because without you I wouldn't be alive."
Savannah simply... stopped when the words hit her.
She looked at Spirit.
Said nothing.
Her eyes were full of stars - as the light caught and danced in the tears that came, unbidden, and flowed in cascades.
Spirit stepped closer, laid her forehead against Savannah's.
"Any poor bastard can die for someone, my love. It's much more difficult to live for someone. I know I'm asking a lot, but I... can't lose you. Please."
"What... What do I need to do?" Savannah asked, quiet. Begging. "I can't lose you either."
"Just... when we're in public, whenever anyone that doesn't know my name can see, pretend like I'm just your bodyguard," Spirit murmured back. "I don't care about when we're in private. Call me whatever you like there."
She slipped an arm around Savannah's shoulders, pulled her closer, hugged her tight, rested her head on Savannah's shoulder.
"Okay... I'm sorry, E- Spirit," she says, correcting herself. "I didn't ever want to... I'm sorry... I wasn't listening."
"It's okay."
Spirit brushed a tear from Savannah's eye.
"It's okay," she murmured. "I'm not mad. I just... want you to be safe. Please. If you got killed because I was being a dramatic bitch, I..."
She let the sentence hang, not because she didn't want to finish it, but because she didn't know how to communicate what her reaction would be.
"But how... how I can keep you safe, too?"
Spirit realized that this one question was full of everything that made Savannah... Savannah.
It wasn't enough for her to be safe. She talked about not caring about being safe, but it was clear that was bluster. She wanted to feel safe, too, but she wanted everyone to feel safe. Everyone she loved, anyways.
The problem was... Spirit didn't have an answer.
Ages ago, she had sworn a very simple oath.
I will uphold the mission of the Black Watch: to see the House Cameron last beyond my death.
I will observe the noble history of the Black Watch and strive to maintain a standard as high.
I will fight, and if need be, die before I let harm come to the family Cameron.
In this I swear, by my oath and rede. Nemo me impune lacessit.
Nowhere in that oath was a promise to stay alive. She was a bodyguard. Her life was secondary to Savannah's, in all respects. She didn't care if she survived; at best, it was a bonus. Savannah had to. No matter what. Even if it cost Spirit her life.
"By staying safe," Spirit murmured. She had no other answer. She knew no other answer.
Let me go in harm's way for you, was all the answer she could give.
"That isn't an answer to my question," Savannah said, almost incredulous, as if disbelieving what she'd heard. Something changed in her then, just for a moment. Not anger. Not sadness. Not even disappointment.
"Answer my question, Eliza."
Savannah had steeled. It was not begging. It was through tears, but the voice was hard.
It was a command. From the head of House Cameron. To a member of the Black Watch.
She had to obey.
She had to find an answer.
If the problem before was that Spirit didn't have an answer, now the problem was that she didn't have one the Lady Cameron would accept. Not in a million years. Not in all the time between the beginning of the stars and the end of them.
So she didn't lend her voice to the thoughts running through her mind.
I am your bodyguard. It is my duty to die in your stead, if need be. I don't care if I die. Death can have me when it earns you.
She hesitated.
"You aren't answering."
Pause.
"Very well," she said. No sigh. No regret in the tone. "Should I tell you this? Absolutely not, this is going to hurt us both. But if you won't answer my question, then I suppose I have to say it. So allow me to refresh your memory, and clarify some things."
"You are the Last Ghost of the Blackwatch. Last of the line of the original. What's more, you have appointed yourself my personal bodyguard. That is good, and proper. The personal guard was always drawn from the Black Watch. But if you die, there will be no one to protect me anymore. No other unit will take the job - after all, if the Last Ghost of the Black Watch failed, who else would be able to do the job? It would be declaring to the Sphere: "The Cameron line can die at last, come get her!"
"And before you speak on the new Black Watch, that is the Regiment - they protect the institution, not the individual. The personal guard was drawn from the Black Watch, yes, but they were not of the Regiment - they wore its symbols but answered to the First Lord themself."
"You believe your creed gives you permission to die for me. But you forget, you are the only one left, the only one brave enough, loyal enough, to step forward and say "I will serve." That means you are irreplaceable. Furthermore, as Head of House Cameron, I will accept no other as my guard. You can answer my question, but you are blinded by adherence to a creed that died with the old Star League. You can answer, which means are choosing not to answer. So, in light of this, and if you continue to not answer the question..."
Pause.
Spirit let go of Savannah's hand.
Knelt, left knee high, right knee low.
Let the top of her head show, to show that she trusted the Lady Cameron to not strike her.
Folded her hands on top of her left knee, palms down and open so that she could not hold a weapon.
"Lady Savannah Elizabeth Jocasta Cameron. I swore my oath to defend the House Cameron to my dying breath, and to ensure the safety of House Cameron's scions no matter what. If need be, I am to lay down my life in defense of you."
She paused.
"But I cannot fault your wisdom."
She paused again.
"The only answer I can offer to guarantee my safety, my Lady, is for you to live life within a gilded cage, free from any threats or adventures. I cannot condemn you to a fate that is anathema to your very being, my Lady, and thus, I find I do not have a satisfactory answer. All I can ask is that you trust in my abilities, just as I trust in your capability, just as the people of the Aurigan Reach trusted in your capability, and just as Lady Kamea Arano-Cameron, peace be upon her, trusted in your capability."
"I do trust you," Savannah replied. "Allow me to demonstrate my trust. Have you a blade on you?"
She asked the question fully knowing the answer was yes... and having already decided the exact blade she desired, for what she was about to do.
"Always," Spirit replied. She slipped the knife closest to her heart from its black carbon-fibre sheath. Damascus steel, edged with silver that caught the light just right. "Forged from the armour of Tukayyid's fallen. My Star fights still."
She offered the blade with both hands to Savannah.
"Yours, until the last flame dies and all words have been spoken. I cannot think of a better fate for the fallen."
Savannah took the blade, inspected it. She remembered the first time she had seen it, all those decades ago, when Eliza had shown her the graves of her Star. She ran her fingers across its surface, feeling, communing with the spirits of the pilots and machines in the metal.
She closed her eyes, and silently said the same prayer she'd said back then.
Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.
Amen.
She opened her eyes.
"With this blade, and the authority of House Cameron, of which I am head, I hereby dub thee," Savannah said, touching the blade to Eliza's right shoulder, then her left.
" Lady Elizabeth Ryhill-Hazen of the Order of the Star."
The highest honor of the Star League. Savannah knew Eliza wouldn't care for the noble title, the land grant, or the medal of rank. She might care for the sword and legal ability to backtalk Alaric though, she thought.
"Now, Lady Ryhill-Hazen, allow me to demonstrate my trust in you. Stand, if you would."
Spirit stood.
Savannah knew her well enough to know that titles didn't phase her; she preferred the old adage if you know my name, then I failed my mission. Still, she wasn't blind. She understood the gravity of such an award.
Savannah Elizabeth Jocasta Cameron, scion of House Cameron, Queen Mother Consort of House Arano, knelt, left knee high, right knee low.
Let the top of her head show, to show that she trusted the Lady Ryhill-Hazen to not strike her.
Folded her hands on top of her left knee, palms down and open so that she could not hold a weapon.
"Lady Elizabeth Ryhill-Hazen. You have sworn oath and rede to keep me alive. I have faith in your ability to do so. But for that to mean anything, I need to live."
Pause, as she broke tradition, and looked directly into Eliza's brilliant blue eyes.
"Not survive. Live. "
It was the most unique little agony Spirit ever felt. Risk everything--her life, Savannah's life, her duty, oath and honour--or ensure Savannah's safety, ensure that no harm could ever come to her, and make her so utterly, horribly miserable that there was no point.
Risk everything and pray that Savannah doesn't die, or take no risks, and ensure that makes her Savannah dies anyway.
There were plenty of answers that Spirit could have given. Hundreds, possibly thousands of ways for her to condemn her charge to the life of a songbird in a cage. Spirit wouldn't have hesitated for a single moment.
But Spirit didn't exist, and the woman who did loved Savannah far too much to kill her soul but leave her body.
"I understand, my Lady."
"Thank you," Savannah said. She stood slowly, and, after looking to see there was no around, embraced Eliza.
Just "thank you", over and over.
"Thank you" and "I love you."
Eliza did her best to return each kiss (which was a losing battle, but for once, she didn't care), holding Savannah tight all the while.
When Savannah eventually calmed down enough to simply lean her forehead against hers, she closed her eyes and did the same.
"You know I'm still going to worry like an old woman about you, right?" she murmured.
Savannah chuckled. She opened her eyes briefly, just to be sure. She trusted now that her love would be there, even when she closed her eyes.
She closed them again. Felt Eliza's forehead against her own. She revelled in it. Ever since that day at Tukayyid, the day she'd truly fallen in love with Eliza.
Her evil witch queen of Helios.
Her bodyguard.
Her Spirit.
Her Eliza.
Her love.
"I know. I wouldn't have it any other way."