Phelan blushed as both Ranna and Evantha laughed aloud. He reached out to cup Ranna's chin in his left hand, kissed her lightly, then composed his face into a look of innocence. "Actually, my love, I am merely a quick learner under the tutelage of a masterful teacher."
He felt a slight tremor run through Ranna at his use of the word "love," but he was used to that. He knew that the Clans-people so disassociated love, sex, and reproduction that they no longer saw these things in what Phelan might consider their "normal" relationship. The way he equated love and sexual fidelity was incomprehensible to the Clansfolk, just as their deep fear of interpersonal love was to him.
Evantha heaved herself to her feet. "I remand you to the custody of your most able teacher, Phelan. I expect to see you back here in twenty-two hours for another workout."
Phelan flopped wearily onto his back. "Ja,Star Commander. I will be here, right after Carew paces me through antiaircraft tactics."
Evantha threw Ranna a wink. "Be good to him. He did well today."
As Evantha vanished through the door, Phelan reached up to give Ranna's shoulder a squeeze. Touching the gray cotton of her jumpsuit, he felt the large, eight-pointed red star that matched the earring in her left ear. The southernmost point of the star extended down more than twice the length of the other points and turned the insignia into what Phelan had dubbed a "daggerstar." It marked her as a Clan Mech-Warrior and Phelan envied her that designation.
"So, what shall we do for the rest of the day?"
"We have a problem." Ranna frowned and her fists knotted with frustration. "The whole duty schedule has been shifted around because of the JumpShip that entered the system six hours ago. They sent over a number of DropShips that the Dire Wolfhas taken aboard, and those ships are carrying many important people. As a result, there has been a mass revision of the duty roster so people can meet with their House leaders."
Phelan pulled himself up into a sitting position and rested both hands on hers until her fists loosened. "How much time until you have to go on duty?"
"About an hour and a half." A sound almost like a low growl rumbled from her throat. "I'd managed to get clearance for us to take one of the 'Mechs out onto the ship's hull so you could get a good look at this triple star system, and then I'd planned for us to have some time together, alone ..."
Phelan tipped her head up with his left hand. "Hey, an hour and a half is plenty of time for a shower, Quiaff?You would not want to go to your duty station dirty, would you?"
She gave him a wry grin. "No, I suppose that would be disorderly of me, Quiaff?"
"Aff." Phelan stood and pulled Ranna to her feet. "Most disorderly. I think we should do something about that situation."
The figure of an older woman appearing in the doorway stopped them from embracing. Slightly shorter than Ranna and more full-figured, the woman possessed a sensual grace that belied her age. She wore her hair long enough that the red curls hid the shoulders of her jumpsuit. Her blue eyes flashed with amusement as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door jamb.
"Excuse me, children, I do not meant to interrupt."
Phelan turned to face her, slipping one arm around Ranna's waist. "Afternoon, Major ... er Colonel Kerensky." When she frowned at that, Phelan quickly corrected his blunder. "I mean Natasha. Forgive me. I still have the habit of addressing you as I did in my time on Outreach."
Natasha Kerensky shrugged eloquently. "No blood, no report. I have two things to tell you. First, after some haggling, Khan Ulric has managed to convince some of the knotheads in the Clan Council that I should be allowed to instruct you in BattleMech tactics." Her eyes became slits. "I don't know if I like him citing my 'advanced age' as the reason I'm suitable for tutor work, but I ain't going to argue with what works."
As Natasha spoke and freely used contractions, he felt Ranna stiffen slightly. Natasha apparently noticed her reaction, too. "Sorry, Ranna, but I spent the better part of five decades in the Inner Sphere. Forgive me if my use of the language offends you."
Ranna smiled coyly. "As you will, grandmother."
Phelan saw Natasha's instant of shock despite her quick recovery. She bowed her head briefly. "Touché",Ranna. You are certainly a Kerensky."
"Blood of thy blood. Could I be any less than my forebears?"
Phelan suddenly felt in over his head in a conversation that was traveling well beyond his ken of Clan matters. "Excuse me, but I am catching very little of what you are saying."
Natasha blinked twice, as though waking from a trance. "Right. This is not the place for this talk, nor do we have time for it right now." She turned her attention from Ranna to Phelan. "I am afraid you have to come with me."
Phelan let his disappointment ride openly on his face.
"Right now? I have been training for four hours straight, with the last two spent being tossed around by Evantha."
"Builds character." Natasha looked at Ranna. "Cyrilla Ward came over on the Timber Wolf.She wants to see Phelan."
Ranna gave Phelan a smile and a nod. "Go. This is important. I will see if I can trade off another duty with someone so I can be free when you are finished."
"I don't understand."
Ranna kissed Phelan quickly. "Just go, and be on your best behavior." She shot a sharp glance at Natasha. "And try to avoid letting her influence cause you to backslide."
Natasha shook her head but did nothing to wipe the proud smile from her face. "Ungrateful child," she muttered as Ranna passed out the door. "Go on, Phelan. Get cleaned up and changed. It's time for you to learn what belonging to the Wolf Clan and the House of Ward truly means."
* * *
When he emerged from the shower, Phelan found Natasha sitting on the bench next to his locker. He started at the sight of her, but Natasha just chuckled. "Don't mind me. It's nothing I've not seen before. Don't forget that I was there at your birthing."
Phelan, keeping the towel wrapped around him in kilt fashion, smiled sheepishly. "I've grown up a bit since then."
"True enough, but we're not exactly a sibko and you're not exactly my type." She gave him a more appraising glance. "Well-muscled but lean and ruggedly handsome. You're the type they put on the recruiting posters for the army back in the Lyran Commonwealth." As she spoke, Natasha swung her body around on the bench to face partially away from him.
Phelan dropped the towel and pulled on clothes from his locker. "I'm afraid the LCAF wouldn't consider me recruiter material. Remember, I'm the one who got punted from the Nagelring."
Natasha laughed heartily. "And no one was prouder than me when I heard the news." She turned to face him again as he stepped into the legs of his gray jumpsuit. "I was ready to clear you a spot as a lance commander in the Black Widow Cluster, but Jaime pulled the plug on that little idea.
It's the mark of a good MechWarrior—being able to sort duty from orders and knowing when to act on each."
Phelan zipped up the front of the jumpsuit. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." He closed the locker with a bang, then pointed his right fist against it. "Dammit, Ranna was right. I spend five minutes talking with you, and I start to slip back into my old patterns of speech."
"Try to resist the temptation, boy. It builds character."
"Then why don't you?"
Natasha stood up with a sigh. "When you've built as much character as I have, you can let such things slide." She hooked her left hand over Phelan's right shoulder as she led him from the gymnasium and into the Life Services corridor. "Besides, slavish adherence to formal ritual is a sign that one has nothing better to think about."