The trashwagon tilted precariously, its sturdy wheels turning ever so slowly as it inched its way up a slope and then nodded over a hump, back on more level ground. Its occupants grabbed a hold on seats, walls and each other to keep themselves from falling, and a relieved whoop filled the vehicle when it righted itself with a triumphant roar.
"Whoa!" Corinn loosened his grip on the steering handle and wiped his sweaty forehead. "We made it, guys!"
"Good driving, man," Fonzo grinned and his arm around Lancer's waist slackened. Lancer yelped when his head bumped against the roof, and tried in vain to sink a little lower as the wagon negotiated another stretch of uneven ground.
The 'cockpit' was actually meant for a maximum of three people, so with altogether five men squeezed inside it was definitely cramped. By common decision the two biggest specimens had taken the drivers' seats, leaving just enough room for the twins to stand behind them. Lancer had opted for a place perched on Fonzo's knee, and even though he was by no means tall, his head kept coming uncomfortably close to the hatch whenever the trashwagon tilted or rolled.
"You should wear a helmet," observed Merez behind him. Lancer grimaced.
"Too hot," he countered. "Hey, the detectors are picking up something there, on the left!"
"That's right," Corinn said after leaning forward to take a closer look at the display. "OK, that's where we'll be heading then. Hold on!"
"To what?" Baris groaned when the trashwagon veered so that his sweat-moist hand slipped from the support he'd managed to find and he nearly lurched on top of his brother.
"Something, pal, something," Fonzo murmured. "Yeah, we might be in luck here. Stop over there, Corinn, on that level spot. Let's go check it on foot."
Everybody was happy to climb out of the stagnant heat of the vehicle and into the forest. Not that the air was much cooler there, but at least there was a light breeze meandering through the thick foliage, helping to create an illusion of cool.
"You keep an eye on the wagon, kid, we go check that something," Corinn said and Lancer nodded.
He leaned his back against one of the big wheels and scanned the surroundings while the others headed towards the spot their detectors had marked, then wiped his hair away from his face and checked the long-barreled gun on his hip. They didn't expect to meet with any trouble there trash patrols were not sent out if imminent danger was suspected but everybody still carried a weapon outside the base. There definitely was something metallic there, hopefully something useful they could haul back with them. For miles and miles the terrain was dotted with scraps and pieces only waiting to be found, scattered remnants of numerous battles. Invaluable raw materials for a group of rebels scratching together the means to continue their mission.
Lancer sighed and relaxed a little. The dull ache somewhere inside him had gone nowhere, but he could live with it. He blinked when he realized that he actually had to wrack his brain for a while to come up with the precise time that had passed since that day. The day Turner died. The weeks had done nothing to lessen the pain that washed over him every morning when he emerged from dreamland and remembered why the warmth beside him was missing. His heart still skipped a beat every time he saw the familiar faces of the pilots and remembered that there was no point in looking for Turner among them. On more than a few nights he had woken up, covered in sweat and painfully aroused, and sobbed his grief and loneliness and frustration into the pillow. But he was living.
In fact he was living far more fully than ever before since coming to the base. Because of Commander Seranno's vehement and openly showed disapproval, he had been a pariah, without much contact with the others. They had all kept their distance, and the only reason why Turner hadn't been treated the same way was simple: the man had been a superb pilot, somebody not even Seranno could afford to snub. But Turner's young lover had been a convenient target on whom the Commander could vent all his animosity, when he ventured to the common rooms without the fiercely protective Turner by his side. So Lancer had mostly kept himself to himself and stayed out of sight, spending his time in their room, reading, watching videos, and sharing passionate time with his lover whenever they had the chance.
Lancer groaned aloud when a memory of heated nights surfaced making his groin throb, and resolutely he forced the thoughts away. It was no use dwelling on memories, especially not those ones. Just concentrate on the here and now, on living, on adapting.
His eyes searched the others and he smiled a little. He was the first to admit that he didn't have any idea what he'd have done without those guys. Especially Fonzo and Corinn. The 'big boys' had been there non-stop, never leaving him alone for a single moment. At first he could have screamed and in fact had done it a few times just to be left alone, to be allowed to crawl into some dark corner and curl up there and howl until his heart stopped. But that hadn't been on their agenda, so they simply ignored his protests.
Corinn's bunk in the room he'd shared with Fonzo had become Lancer's. The guys pulled him from bed in the mornings, they made him take a shower and put his clothes on. They took him to have breakfast, goaded until he was exasperated enough to give in and shove some food into his mouth. They made him come along to the aircraft hangars, never listened to him arguing that he didn't understand a thing about machinery, and gave him something to do to create the illusion that they actually needed him there.
They forced him to listen to their good-humored bantering, saw that he met people and got to remember their names, dragged him to the common room in the evenings, made him sit there with them. They made him join in the everyday life of the base, so that by every evening he just dropped in bed and slept, exhausted. They were totally, utterly, infuriatingly determined not to leave him be, and they would not take no for an answer.
They were there to catch him when he felt like giving up. Fonzo would be there, gently rubbing his shoulders when he bolted up in the middle of the night, suffocated by tears that would not come. When sadness crept on him during the days, somehow Corinn would always appear and wake him up from reverie by a playful slap and a joke. Oddly enough, somehow they seemed to sense how important touching had always been to Lancer, and they kept reminding him that at least he was still there, to touch and be touched, and so were they.
Lancer frowned and squinted to see better what the men were doing. What was keeping them so long? Nothing seemed to be wrong, though, so he climbed a little higher on the side of the wheel to see better. The vehicle felt mercifully cooler now that it had been standing there for a moment. Yes, very obviously they had found something of interest. Lancer was itching to go closer, but it was an unbreakable rule to never leave their wagons unguarded, so he just jumped down again.
The gun felt comfortable against his thigh, a slight weight, not too heavy. He fingered it lightly. To think that he, of all people, not only knew how to use it but had even been called a 'good shot', especially for a newbie. The odd combination of profound thrill and deep calm that engulfed him when held the thing in his hand had taken him completely by surprise onthe first time, and it was a major reason why he had been so eager to practice. The knowledge that he was practicing to possibly kill another human did not deter him. Everyone who ventured out of the base on duty had to know how to defend themselves if necessary, and Fonzo and Corinn had decided that Lancer would join them and the twins on their trashwagon when they went looking for raw materials to salvage. So Lancer had learned to shoot, and was secretly awed by himself. Of course it would be a whole different matter to actually do it for real to aim and shoot at someone to kill. But he had pushed that notion, too, somewhere to the background. Time to worry about that when, if ever, the moment came.
Another few minutes, and Lancer was definitely getting edgy. What the hell were those four up to? What could possibly take that long? He knew better than to shout, though, and touched instead the short-distance comm button on his lapel.
"Fonzo? What're you doing down there? Did you find something?"
"Yeah, don't worry," came a low reply. "Just hang on there for a another moment or two, we'll be back soon."
"Roger that," Lancer sighed and leaned again on the trashwagon. He felt like dozing off but knew better than that, and his gaze swept once more around the small clearing. The enormous leaves of the tree-like plants surrounding him might've looked peculiar to someone from off-planet, but Lancer was a native to the naturally Terraform planet of Jainah, and felt thoroughly at ease here, at the foot of the huge Mount Robillard. His home on the opposite side of the globe had been a lot like this, only with smaller trees and a lot less surface water.
A gust of wind made the leaves rustle and Lancer glanced sharply in the direction of the sound. No, nothing suspicious there.
Corinn climbed up from the pit, the first one to reappear. Lancer shot him a questioning look. The man looked oddly weary and grim, and Lancer's insides lurched.
"What was it? Anything useful?"
"Not much," Corinn replied and turned to help Merez over the ledge. "We'll take a box down and pick up the biggest pieces, but there isn't anything large left."
"I'll come and help," Lancer offered, "it looks like quite a climb and one of you could have some rest."
Fonzo shook his head, not meeting his eyes. Lancer stepped in front of him so that the man had to stop.
"What did you find?"
Fonzo's jaw tightened.
"What's left of Turner's plane," he whispered thickly.
Lancer's eyes widened, he turned to look into the bushes that hid everything within from sight. Fonzo grabbed his forearm.
"Don't go. There's nothing to see. It's just… we recognized it by some markings on a piece of wing."
"You're lying." Lancer's eyes were nearly black.
The man swallowed. "I mean it, Lancer. The aircraft has exploded in the atmosphere. This is just where some small parts of it fell."
"Tell me what you found!" He had wanted to yell but it came out as a strangled whisper.
"For goodness' sake, he needs to know!" Baris nearly shouted. He stepped to Lancer and took his hand. "It's true, there are only small parts left. But there was a piece of the cockpit… and the remains of an arm."
He shook his curly head in a desperate effort to forget what it had felt like to touch that charred bone, and dropped onto Lancer's palm the little thing he'd gingerly extracted from it. "Nothing more than that, Lancer, I swear."
Lancer looked at the deformed ring and his fingers closed slowly around it. A tremor went through him.
Of course I'll wear it! I want to give the old bastard something to think about! I know we love each other, why wouldn't I want everybody else to know it too? Lancer, you're too sensitive…
"Are you going to get the scraps out of there or not?" His voice sounded alien even in his own ears, so there was no reason to blame the guys if they eyed him strangely. "Come on, we need to get back to the base before the sun rises too high."
Corinn nodded slowly and pulled a portable transportation box from under the wagon. Fonzo frowned.
"Are you going to be all right?" he asked. "One of us could stay here with you."
"Of course I'll be all right! Get going now, will you?"
Lancer climbed to sit on the edge of the hatch, mouth set in a thin line. He looked at his trembling hands and bit his lip. Goddamn it, what a fine time to get emotional!
He took his gun from the holster and concentrated in slowing down his breathing. Easy now. Breathe. Raise the gun. Breathe. Aim. Breathe. Steady. Don't press the trigger. No use wasting supplies like that. Just aim, and imagine you're aiming at a Union what? Pilot? Soldier? Nevermind, just imagine and aim. If only there was someone to shoot at… He really wanted to kill someone, but that was no reason to worry the others by firing at nothing.
After a few more deep breaths he reholstered the gun and stared blindly into the pit that had swallowed his companions once more. Oh god Turner I love those clever hands of yours.
The ring felt burning hot in his hand. He couldn't look at it. Why would he, when he knew exactly what it looked like? A simple band of titanium, nothing more. Similar to the one on his left middle finger. Take my hand Lancer, I promise we're going to make it out of here alive. The one he hadn't taken off ever since the man had given it to him. How sentimental, really, especially as he'd never been in the habit of wearing much jewelry.
But it was just the same with the earrings, he was so used to wearing them that he never even remembered them anymore. They were light, small, no bother. Do you have any idea how sexy those look on you? They make me want to kiss your ears. They were from Turner, one of those silly presents that were a joke between them the man occasionally treating him like a girl and then laughing at it because he definitely wouldn't have been interested if Lancer had been a girl. I could swallow you whole, elfkin. No. Don't go there. Do not remember.
Lancer blinked when the men appeared once more up the hill, hauling a nearly full box between them. They were sweating and panting and swearing, but they were back. Wordlessly he helped them hoist the box into the vehicle, climbed up along its side and squeezed himself into the small cockpit, sat on Fonzo's knee and closed his eyes.
Corinn started the wagon, it swayed into motion and Lancer would have fallen on his ass on the floor if it hadn't been for the arm that wound around his waist and steadied him. The ring burned in his hand. Do you have any idea how I've missed you?
Lancer sank back against Fonzo. Merez looked down at his tear-stained face, wiped his own eyes and wrapped an arm around his brother's shaking shoulders. He could only hope that Baris wouldn't be sick again.
