Riddles Undone

It was very, very cold, and little more than pitch black. As Sigurd lay on his back, staring up at a dim ceiling through his lashes, he pondered the environment. The realm of Hel was said to be dark and bitter cold, just as this place was. Growing up on an arid world, the mythologies of the north often failed to make sense. He remembered that during his childhood, he had held a sort of fascination on the subject. After all, a place so cold that it was miserable made no sense; a cool dark place would be heaven compared to life under the demon eye of a burning sun.

'Perhaps...' he thought in a half-conscious sort of daydream, 'it is a bad omen that the underworld sounds comfortable to me. ...Though, maybe I should worry more that I do not fear the monster chained near it.'

As his cold brain began to warm up, he shifted a little and discovered all his aches. Like a 'Mech coming out of a cold start, he felt sluggish, and his extremities were somewhat unresponsive at first. His arms were rather sore and all his muscles had stiffened in the cold, icy grip of the air around him. Sigurd flexed his biceps, then rubbed his hands across his abdomen to warm the muscles, and sat up. The fibres were still stiff, but not so bad as to cramp tightly. He rolled his shoulders and set his bare hands down on the bed to steady himself as he sat up into a crouch.

He quickly deduced that he was back in his quarters; everything in the minimalist room was just as he had last left it. Slowly, cautiously, he ran the calloused tips of his fingers over his face to examine for any stitches or bandages, then over the inside of each arm for needle marks. Much to his relief, the only bruises were from punches and not hypodermics. The damage he suffered must have been slight, considering that he was not in the infirmary. His cooling suit had been removed, though, and he was now sitting in only his shorts; the suit lay folded on his dresser beside his uniform.

As he approached, he was surprised to find that both still bore the patch of "Star Commander".

"Odd..." he murmured aloud. He picked up each article of clothing and examined it thoroughly for any new patches or marks—namely, the mark of Amaris. Much to his shock and simultaneous relief, there was no such insignia. 'I have not been branded dezgra Not yet, at least...' He breathed a little sigh and pulled on a sleeveless shirt.

Suddenly, the hydraulics in the door groaned softly and light poured in from the hall, obstructed by a human silhouette. As figure stepped forward swiftly, the door slid shut again and plunged the room back into darkness.

"You should thank your bondsman for the accommodations."

Instantly, Sigurd moved back towards the wall and peered into the darkness. When that yielded nothing, he closed his eyes, boring through the black veil with his other senses to discern the location of the speaker.

There was a soft but decidedly military footfall approaching him. He opened his eyes again and backed away slowly into further shadows. As he moved, so too did the other presence. A partial and very faint light fell upon the man's face, keeping his eyes still in shadow.

"He suggested that a cooler atmosphere might be preferable to you, so I had the medics turn down the temperature when they brought you in." The vague lighting caught his smile, giving a dim, but eerie illumination to his somewhat sharp canines.

Sigurd curled his lip back over his own teeth in a literal snarl, as he pressed his back to the icy wall. "What are you doing here?" he growled, moving his fingers into stiff claws. He was quite surprised to wake up at all, but his continued existence in this world confirmed that the Star Colonel wanted him alive.

In the shadows, Akela's form could be seen to shrug a little, then stop mid-motion as if pained. "I came to see if you had recovered. Apparently, my concern was wasted." He chuckled and tapped a nearby lamp, illuminating a small area. He stepped into the shaft of light and unzipped his jumpsuit down to his stomach. "I may have 'won', but you certainly made me pay for it," he said, as he drew the fabric aside to reveal a grotesque, multi-colored bruise spanning much of his abdomen. In the center of it was a red splotch of blood pooled beneath his skin, and several stitches. He gave a grunt of dissatisfaction and quickly zipped his jumpsuit back up to the collar.

Sigurd looked back from the wound to the man's face, questioning.

"My spleen. You made a small rupture with that peculiar strike of yours, and the meds had to sew me up. Thanks to that, my 'vacation' extends longer than my patience." He seemed more unhappy about his imposed sick leave than the hemorrhaging.

Not only did Sigurd refuse to ever go down without a fight, but he also refused to go down without tearing apart his enemies in the process. Ten seconds more, and he would have made sure to disrupt at least one other organ. He only wondered now why Akela didn't kill him when he had the chance. Maybe the physiological shock of blood loss hit him, and he was unable to finish the job. Then again, he could have easily ordered an execution. The Star Colonel might have been somewhat regretful about killing off a bondsman, but when orders came through from upstairs, regret didn't stop him from shooting Emma in the head. Likely, it wasn't what stopped him from doing the same to the abtakha.

"What did you expect? You attacked me," Sigurd growled, just short of seething.

"That was precisely what I expected. If you had given me any less of a fight, I would have killed you."

"If I gave you less of a fight, I would have deserved to die," the Star Commander shot back. "However, I do find it odd that you let me live, considering what you now know."

"As I said: I always knew you wanted to destroy the Clans. That was part of the reason I chose you. I was a whelp during the Refusal War, but I still remember hearing how those vultures, the Falcons, murdered Ulric Kerensky. I remember being forced into their Clan, until we were 'freed' as Jade Wolf. I want them dead just as much as you do," he said, his voice tinged with a little bitterness. "As far as I can see it, the other Clans are just one more obstacle between the Wolves and Terra."

"So, when you said you would help me kill them, you really did mean it."

"I gave you my word. I hardly see how I can be more earnest than that."

Sigurd gave him a suspicious look, then nodded thoughtfully. "What happens if the Wolves are the only ones left, and I am still here?"

Akela gave him a wry smile. "Always thinking ahead," he said with a little chuckle. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it, quiaff?"

"Aff." Sigurd sighed a little. He was still trying to sort out everything that had occurred, including his feelings towards the Clan. 'Akela is right, though. It is better for me to work with him, for the time being. I can accomplish more that way.' He looked back up at his commander and frowned a little. "What must I do, ovkhan?"

"Only one thing: trust me."

"I find that a little difficult."

"Why? I have gone out of my way to keep you alive and to keep the Keshik from examining you too closely. I would not have done that if I did not need you alive."

"And just what is it that you need me for? Why am I here?" Sigurd asked.

"Hm, one of life's great mysteries. Why are any of us here?" Akela snagged the chair from the corner of the room. He sat down, hand pressed to his side a little gingerly, and made himself as comfortable as his injuries permitted. "Personally, I like to think that I am here because I want to be here. Maybe that is just a lie I tell myself, but it is a good lie, quiaff? We all make little lies for ourselves. Sometimes—many times—we know it is not true, but we do not care. All we care...is that we never have to admit the facts. You should know all about that."

"No more philosophy," Sigurd growled suspiciously. He remained standing, for he was still uneasy with the situation. Right now, Akela held all the power and all the advantages; for his own defense, he had no option but to appear more assertive than he ought to be by rights. "Answer me directly."

Akela arched his eyebrows and leaned back a little in mock surprise. "But...why should I tell you what you already know? I think you know why you are here. Now, if you could just admit it to yourself. You see, I know you, Sigurd—well enough to know that you have a particularly deep regard for family. The Falcons, yes, you hate them. But the Wolf Clan... Would you really raise a hand against your family?"

Sigurd liked less and less where this was going. He could see the nebulous, somewhat philosophical musings of the Star Colonel congealing into a solid state. The vague hints were like a cosmic cloud, with particles all swirling and condensing in upon themselves to pack into a star that would burn away the darkness. The pieces were coming together to destroy all the veils he raised in his mind to mask the truth. Akela was right—Sigurd did know all about lying to oneself. All that psychobabble was just Akela's attempt to prod him into admitting it.

It was working.

The cold fingers of his deepest nightmares began digging down into his brain. Sigurd shivered at the ice in his veins and sank to the floor as his stomach wrenched itself into an ill knot. "I was born on Fringe. My father was born there, and my mother was... She was from somewhere else in the Periphery. That was my family." He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

"Hm. It sounds to me as if you do not know very much about your mother. I think though, that you must have known enough to come to the same conclusion I did. Well, going on the assumption that you were not adopted..."

"And what is that conclusion?" Sigurd muttered. He might have glared, but despite his situation, Akela was still his commander, and he could not disrespect him.

"You tell me, Sigurd Wolf." Akela gave a light 'hmph' and smirked at him. "Come now. You knew it was not for charity that I helped you get this far. I already told you that my life is singularly devoted to this Clan, and that means that I will do anything and everything within my power to ensure the future of the Wolves." He leaned back and shook his head. "You know, I do pity you, Star Commander. You tried so hard to fight this. You did an admirable job of it, too, but the fact is that you cannot escape what you are. None of us can."

Everything just shattered. The moment the words were past Akela's lips, Sigurd wished dearly that he could wish everything away. Like a fine needle, that last admonishment burst the frail but comforting lie that he had told himself for so long. Now that the Star Colonel knew what Sigurd had tried so long to deny, it was useless to resist the truth.

"I-I never... I never wanted to know that," he choked. "I always knew it, though. Is this supposed to change something?"

"It changes everything," he said. "Do you see now why I asked you to trust me? I may have been just a little manipulative, but it was for your good. I would never seriously hurt you, Sigurd. After all, we are kin. Something like...cousins." Akela Kerensky laughed at the vulgarity of his own joke as he rose stiffly and walked out the door.

---

"All units, this is Star Captain Melli." The woman's voice rang sharp with the clarity of a person intent on making her temporary position far more permanent. Even seeing her briefly, Sigurd had noted the drive he saw in her eyes. Now that she was organizing the loading on behalf of Akela, she seemed even more commanding. No doubt it was something she wanted to get used to. "Report status!" she barked.

The Elemental leader spoke up. "Star Commander Elaine. All Elemental units are prepared."

"This Star Captain Allin. My Binary is ready," said a man.

Sigurd tapped the comm as he approached the other commanders. "Star Commander Sigurd, here. My Star is ready for extraction," he said, glancing out the side of his cockpit at the three 'Mechs in echelon to his right.

There was an unhappy "tsk" from one of the Captains, and Melli's battered but lethal Hellbringer seemed to regard him with suspicion. He bowed his head a little, though no one could see him, and fell into line behind the others.

"Everyone," he said, turning to the Star's frequency, "single file on me."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead as cargo and personnel were loaded up into the ship—Akela and Mathews among them. For the first time, snow no longer fell. It made the cold land looked strangely peaceful, even with the wreckage still strew over the snow. To think so much had happened here in so short a time was incredible. He had come as a defender of this bland world, and now he would leave as a conquerer. In a matter of months, he had lost who he thought he was. In a matter of seconds he found everything in himself that he never wanted to see. No more could he look away from what he was.

"Tammi...?" Sigurd asked softly as he opened a private comm line between them. "Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly, sir," the Elemental woman replied. She hit her jets and alighted on top of his Storm Crow. It seemed she preferred that spot, which he hardly minded. Right now, she was the only one he deemed a friend.

He searched for a way to present his question. "If... you found out that something you believed was untrue, what would you do?"

She paused a little. "Like intel?"

"Like... something you believed for yourself. Maybe...Maybe that someone you thought you knew turned out to be very different than what you always believed. What would you do?"

She shuffled a little, steadying herself on his 'Mech. "To be honest, sir, I used to believe that you were... Well, I guess you know how I felt. Then you fought to protect me and Jae. That proved my initial conception wrong."

"And now?"

"I changed my mind." Even without seeing her, he knew that she was giving him a very genuine smile. "You nearly gave your life for us. I know you were not born Clan, but to me at least, that makes you as much a Wolf as any one of us. Some might disagree, but I think what a person has done speaks more about who they are than where they came from."

"Thank you," he said softly, staring out the viewscreen at the dropship.

The forward most 'Mech lurched forward and plodded deliberately into the hangar. As soon as it entered, the others began to follow, and the line moved forward like a metal centipede.

"It looks like it is finally time to go home, eh, sir?"

"Yes. Back to Strana Mechty."

---

Note: Part Two is complete. More to come in Part Three.

I sincerely want to thank everyone who's been reading this-- I hope you've enjoyed it. A special thanks to all those who submitted reviews, as well. Your comments and critique are always helpful and encouraging. I hope you all stick around for the next installment.

This final chapter for Part Two was rather difficult for me, but in the end, I decided that taking Shadrach's advice was the best option. I've tried to do what I felt was right for the story, and I hope it shows. Again, thanks so much to all of you for you support.