|
|||
 |
|||
Here you'll find
|
Mount Robillard
16. An Encore"Are you now quite sure of this, Scott?" Lancer asked, probably around the thirty-fourth time in far fewer minutes.He was sitting on the armrest of Scott's chair back in Maurice's office, where they'd dragged the nearly hysterical clone, and hugged the trembling body closer. Scott looked up in exasperation. "Yes!" he snapped. "Yes, I am quite sure. That is a T-clone!" Maurice slowly shook his head, still overwhelmed by shock. He'd been completely bewildered by Scott's outburst, and Corinn's hurried explanation of Scott's origins while Lancer had been trying to calm down his friend had only added to his consternation. "But that's impossible," he breathed. "He's from Troulles, in the west, been to school there and all..." "OK, Scott, I believe you." Lancer tried to start once more from the beginning. Maybe then this whole thing would somehow make sense. "So, would you please tell me everything you know about the T-clones. If I remember correctly, you've only mentioned them once." "I do not know much," Scott said. "They were always kept separate from us. But I did see them occasionally, often enough to know what they look like. And he definitely is a T." "All right," Corinn nodded and sat down next to the two youngsters. "What does the T stand for? And why are you so afraid of them?" "It was said that the T means 'telepathic'. That they can read your thoughts." "What?" Lancer couldn't believe his ears. "Telepathic?" "Yes. That is what was said. Of course our instructors never talked about them." Scott frowned, trying to remember more. "But everybody knew that was what it meant. They kept to themselves, always." "Anything else?" Corinn urged. Scott's frown deepened and he wrung his hands. "There were not many of them," he said a little uncertainly. "But I think they each had their own guardian, whereas we had one guardian, or instructor, for fifty of us. They were very special." "In what way?" Maurice couldn't help himself. This was getting too nightmarish for him. "Because they had special abilities," Scott said. "Sometimes we could see one of them leaving with his guardian, and then there would be fewer of them for a good while. Then someone might see them returning again with their guardians. And they would look different... older, or something." "Guardian?" Lancer chewed on his lower lip. Maurice gasped, and both Corinn and Lancer turned sharply to shoot a questioning glance at him. "That uncle of his," Maurice said weakly. "He has this relative, uncle he calls him, who visits him regularly." "He lives in the Radysson Estates?" Lancer's question was answered with a nod. "Of course. They meet roughly every week, and to be quite honest I've sometimes wondered what it is all about." Maurice rubbed his neck. "You see, every time he has a day off, this uncle comes to meet him. Sometimes they stay at his place, sometimes they go out. But every time they've met he's somehow out of it the next day." "How?" Corinn asked. "He's tired, weary, has trouble concentrating. And if asked about it, he usually complains of a headache. I've been wondering if the man is a relative at all. I was thinking that maybe he's some kind of a sugar daddy." Maurice looked a little ashamed. "And I've wondered if they just engage in something rough... sex games that go a bit overboard, or something like that." "Does he seem affectionate towards this uncle of his?" Lancer asked, trying to put the pieces together. Maurice shook his head. "Not really. You see, that's what has been disturbing me. He gets slightly edgy whenever his day off is approaching, and I guess by now everybody has learned not to mention the man to him. And yet, the same thing happens every week." Corinn and Lancer looked at each other, deep in thought. "Can you remember anything else, Scott?" Corinn asked finally. "Anything suspicious at all?" "Once I was going to the dormitories after dinner," Scott said slowly, "and I walked past two instructors, but not ones that worked with us. They were talking about a clone being 'on a mission' in something-city. I did not know the name, but they said 'city' so I understood it was a place. And I thought they were talking about a clone, because they referred to him by a number. It was a small number, under twenty." "Good, Scott!" Lancer encouraged him. "That's real good! Anything else?" "Yes. The other one replied that this number-someone had already obtained a lot of useful information, but more was still needed before they could decide upon any course of action." "A spy." Corinn took a deep breath and intertwined his fingers behind his head. "A fucking spy. Maurice, you're in deep shit." "How long has he been here?" Lancer asked. "About three months now," Maurice replied after a moment's consideration. "You're in deep shit, man," Corinn repeated. "Do you understand what this means? The Union's got their eye on you. They've planted a spy here, and now they're just waiting until he hands you to them on a silver platter." Maurice shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe it!" he moaned. "André wouldn't do anything like that!" "Maybe he doesn't have a choice," Lancer pointed out. "You said yourself that he's not exactly enthusiastic to meet this uncle, yet he does precisely that week after week. If he really is a Union clone, I'm sure they've got the means to make him do it, whether or not he wants it. He's not given any say in the matter." "He is a T-clone," Scott said decisively. "Right." Corinn crossed his muscular arms on his chest. "So you're being spied on. And you're far too valuable a guy for far too many people, we can't leave you here and wait like a sitting duck until you're shot. Which means we've only got one choice." Lancer nodded. Maurice looked from one to another. "What the hell do you mean?" "Simply that André must disappear," Lancer said quietly. "You cannot mean it." Maurice stared at him agape, then turned to Corinn who merely shrugged. "No, I won't allow it! You've got no evidence, you can't do anything like that! Not again!" "Maurice, we can't not do it!" Corinn argued. "When Scottie here is as sure as he is now, we have to believe him. You're in real danger, and not only you but everybody else here, too. What do you think will happen to them if the Union arrests you? Do you think the Union guys are going to believe that nobody else here knows a damn thing about any rebellion?" "You simply can't do this to me! Not again!" Maurice's hot protests fell on deaf ears. Lancer and Corinn were dead set on doing it, and Scott soon followed suit, even though the mere thought of staying a few hours in the same relatively small transport with a T-clone made him tremble. The trio used the entire duration of the lunch to develop a plan for the daring stunt they were going to pull, and spent a good while afterwards filling in gaps and testing their brainchild against a string of 'what ifs'. They all agreed that the plan was really quick and dirty, but it was the best they could come up with there and then. Maurice listened to them in growing despair and finally just nodded apathetically. "I'll do my part, don't worry about it," he said quietly. "But you had better be right about this, or I'll never forgive you." Lancer embraced him tightly. "Maurice, I know we're right. Believe me, I really wouldn't want to be doing this to you but you're in danger. And I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you and I could've done something to prevent it but didn't." Maurice held him close and swallowed, blinking frustrated tears from his eyes. Some hours later, a perfectly ordinary-looking transport was idly standing in a small parking lot near Chez Maurice, barely behind a corner yet strategically positioned at a complete dead angle from the restaurant building. A few people were sauntering past, talking to each other, paying absolutely no attention to the slightly battered vehicle. Sunlight was mirrored from its windows, and somewhat further away, one ray fell on something that looked like a stream of living gold. "He's there," Scott whispered. "Right." Lancer stood up, opened the door and walked unhurriedly to the approaching young man. "André Lemotte?" "Yes, I am." The stunning beauty looked at Lancer curiously. "What is it?" "Sorry to disturb you like this, but your uncle wants to meet you urgently. He couldn't come himself, so he sent us to take you to see him." At the mention of the uncle the fine-boned face darkened and sky-blue eyes dulled, but the man nodded obediently. "All right." Lancer glanced quickly in and noticed that Scott had hidden in the back, behind the wall separating the cargo area from the passenger side. They'd agreed that it might be best if their quarry didn't see him, in case he might recognize another clone. "Step in, please." André mutely took a seat, crossed his long, elegant legs and placed his hands on one knee. He sat quietly in place looking listlessly out of the window, not paying any attention to the others in the vehicle, while Corinn navigated through the mace of interlacing streets and out of the city. His mind still seemed to be totally elsewhere when they reached the highway, whereas Lancer was forcing himself not to twitch with nervous tension. Would they really be able to pull this through? And, something that he couldn't bear to even consider, what if Scott had after all been wrong? Scott kept so completely quiet in the back that a few times Lancer found himself wondering if he was there at all, which didn't exactly make him feel any calmer. He also noticed that his eyes kept stealing towards the gorgeous sight on the other side of the vehicle, no matter how hard he tried not to stare. The man was a little taller than Lancer and seemed to radiate supple grace even when sitting motionless, face hidden by an astounding mass of hair that cascaded around his shoulders in thick tresses. Lancer sighed soundlessly and tried to relax in his seat. As long as André remained peaceful, there was nothing to do but wait and hope for the best. Corinn peered at Lancer from the corner of his eye as he heard the young man behind him shifting slightly in his seat. He had done that for a few times over the past fifteen minutes, and Lancer could see that the narrow fingers had begun to fidget. Finally, for the first time since he had entered the vehicle, André turned to his companions with a frown. "Where are we going?" he asked, sounding mildly annoyed. "The place is a little out of the city," Lancer said, astonishing even himself with his calm tone. "It will still take a while." André turned fully to him and his eyes narrowed. "I don't remember seeing you before." "No," Lancer admitted. "We have not met before." Corinn looked at the outside scanners and prayed hard. If only Lancer succeeded in distracting their captive for a while longer! They were already on the stretch of road where they had the best chances of leaving it unnoticed, and the traffic had decreased to a very slow trickle. Soon they'd be alone on the road. "But where are we going?" André repeated, suddenly nervous. "Uncle doesn't have a place out of the city. He has never mentioned it to me." "He has only recently acquired it," Lancer said matter-of-factly, but unfortunately the man didn't seem very inclined to buy that explanation. "No... he would have told me. Where are we going?" "Please calm down!" Lancer said, and right then Corinn saw his chance and pulled out of the road. Both Lancer and André had to grab a hold of their seats as the transport dashed across the narrow bare strip that separated the highway from full-fledged forest. When the green shadow swallowed them, André cried out and tried to stand up, but the transport cleared a small bump in the terrain with a jerk and knocked him back into his seat. Lancer heard a yelp from the back, and Corinn slowed down. "Sorry, Lancer, but Scott can't stay back there any longer," he said. "He'll be knocked senseless within minutes." Lancer nodded and Scott emerged from the cargo department, gingerly rubbing his side. André whirled around and for a while he and Scott stared at each other. André's bewildered expression morphed into suspicion and then fear, and he shrank against the wall. "Who are you?" he demanded, tense as a string. "I have seen you before..." "I am Scott," Scott replied simply but the blond shook his head. "No... I know you. I have seen you before." "Where?" Lancer asked conversationally, and azure eyes blinked at him a few times. "I... don't know." André seemed genuinely disturbed by the fact. "I can't remember." Corinn swallowed, turned back to the steering handle and stepped on the accelerator. He drove as hard as he dared amidst the dense trees, all the time keeping his ears pricked to hear what was happening right behind him. There was still such a damn long way to go! "Was it at school, in Troulles?" Lancer decided to play it cool for as long as he could, but his question only baffled their captive more. "You went to school in Troulles, didn't you?" "Yes I did." André's voice grew stronger, commanding. "Take me back to the city, at once!" "No." Lancer glanced at Scott who, he knew, had a gun hidden under his loose jacket. Scott's face was tight, lips pressed into a thin line. "You don't really want to go back there, do you? I don't think you really want to go to your uncle, André." The young man shuddered violently and seemed to shrink, slim arms wrapping reflexively around his torso. "No..." "You don't need to go to him anymore," Lancer continued. "We'll take you to a place where " "But I have to meet him when he tells me to," André muttered. "I must." "No you don't. We'll take you to a place where he cannot come." Suddenly the suspicion and anxiety in André's eyes flared into mindless panic. He jumped up and threw himself against the window, tried to claw his way through it, screaming. Scott and Lancer leaped on him and had to use all their strength to get enough of a hold of the wildly flailing limbs so that they could force him down on the floor between the seats. But the vehicle was far from spacey and the frenzied young man was stronger than he looked. He managed to kick Lancer hard to the hip and punch Scott in the face so that blood began to flow down his cheek. "Corinn! Get here quick!" Lancer yelled, albeit a little unnecessarily since Corinn had already stopped and was scrambling towards the furious brawl. Scott threw himself on top of André in a frantic effort to pin his arms to the floor, rolled swiftly aside to avoid being bitten once more, and Lancer copied his movements on the other side. Together they got both arms secured while a panting Corinn fought to capture the long legs. After some more fighting he succeeded, right before André's lanky body arched up and his head hit hard on Lancer's shoulder, nearly knocking him on his back. The arm Lancer was holding got loose and the hand flew to André's neck, but in a flash Lancer bounced back on him and grabbed the arm once more, holding on to it like grim death. "The pill!" he gasped. "Quick, somebody, take the pill away from him!" Corinn sat down on André's legs with all his considerable weight and wrung a small something out of desperately grasping fingers. He lifted the thing up between thumb and forefinger and showed it to his two companions. "Well, if I hadn't believed you before, Scott, now I definitely would," he said somberly. André suddenly stopped thrashing. They tied him into a neat package with the spare seatbelts Corinn fished out of some compartment, then placed him once more in his seat where he slumped, eyes wide. "What a wildcat!" Corinn looked at Scott who was pressing a small napkin against his bloody cheek. Lancer struggled to his feet, hand on his hipbone and eyes watering. "You're gonna have a pretty bruise there, kid." "Wouldn't I know that," Lancer groaned. "Shit, I don't know how I can even sit down!" "Here, take this cold pack." Corinn dug into the well-equipped first aid kit and threw a package to him. "It'll lessen the pain. What about you, Scottie? Let me take a look at that." He wiped the blood away, and after a dash of wound spray Scott looked a lot better, even though the cheek was rapidly swelling and turning a deep shade of violet. Finally they all turned to look once more at their captive who hadn't made a sound except for the harsh rasp of his breathing. "Now what was that about?" Corinn asked accusingly, and the tightly bound André slumped even deeper. "Please, not the white room," he whispered, trembling so hard that his teeth chattered. "Not the white room, no, no no no..." "Relax," Lancer said soothingly, trying not to wince as pain shot through his hip at the slightest movement. "We will not take you to any white rooms. You are safe with us, do you hear me?" "That is right, we will not harm you," Scott confirmed. "Corinn, you can drive on. We will take care of him now." Corinn nodded and once more they resumed their journey. "We'll soon be within calling distance from the base," he informed them over his shoulder. "OK, hold on!" Lancer and Scott didn't turn their eyes from André for a second. The golden-haired man stared at them, eyes slowly taking a disturbingly glassy expression. "André, we don't want to harm you or hurt you in any way," Lancer began again, at least as much to distract himself from the throbbing pain as to placate their captive. "Believe me. Your uncle hurt you, didn't he? We will do nothing like that." "Yes... he hurt me." André's voice rang with pure fear. "It always hurts. But I must see him when he calls me." "What did he do? Can you remember?" "No... I must lie down, and he gives me the injection. Then I sleep. Dream. And when I wake up, my head hurts..." A tear rolled down André's face. "My head aches so much that I want to die." "That won't happen ever again." Lancer felt a twang of guilt at the clone's obvious anguish. "Can you remember how you know me?" Scott asked suddenly. André's dark eyebrows drew together. "No. I know I have seen you. But I don't remember where and when." "It was in the Plains Base of Ziroshel Union. That is where we clones are kept." "Clones?" André frowned, face genuinely puzzled. "What do you mean, clones?" "You are a T-clone, produced by the Union," Scott stated. "And I'm an S-clone. I am SC-077M. What is your identification?" "TC-023." The voice was suddenly so devoid of personality that Lancer started in his seat and hissed in pain. Then André blinked a few times and a horrified expression crept on his beautiful face. "No... what was that? I'm André, André Lemotte! I want to become a drag artist at Chez Maurice!" "Why?" Lancer shot. "Because because I want to. I've always wanted to!" "Was that when you were going to school in Troulles? What school was it?" "I don't remember..." Lancer pressed on and soon realized that what he had suspected was true: André consistently held on to the sparse facts of his background that Maurice had repeated to them, but he didn't seem to actually remember anything. Not a single thing that would have put the flesh of memory on the bare bones of data. And data was notoriously easy to falsify, as proved by the ID he carried on him at the moment. A couple of times Scott asked him about T-clones, each time addressing him as TC-023, and every time he answered in that same eerie tone, as if running on autopilot. However, every answer seemed to horrify him more, until Lancer asked Scott to stop. The blond clone looked ready to collapse even without further harassing. "Whohoo, we're within range at last!" Corinn announced. "I'm getting the signal from the beacon..." His call was soon answered and Arria's warm voice floated into the transport. "Base here. We hear you nicely, Roadrunner. Everything OK?" "Yeah, by now." Corinn sent their location to the Base and nodded at the confirmation. "But we're coming with an extra person." "Extra person?" Arria's frown could be heard even over the link. "What's happened?" "It's best if we give you a full explanation once we get there," Corinn sighed. "But I guess you need something now, right? Well, to make it short: Union spy planted at Maurice's. T-clone. Scott recognized him, we had to improvise. Snatched him, clone immobilized right now. Definitely needs Rori. Was that enough?" "Uh-huh... all right. I'll contact the medics. You should be here within the hour." "OK, Base. Roadrunner out." Lancer tried to settle more comfortably into his seat and turn the cold pack so that it'd still correspond to its proud name. André seemed to be out of it, head hanging, lips parted. His quick, light breathing misted the window a little the only sign of life in him. Behind Lancer, Scott's eyes never wavered from the still form, his hand resting lightly on the gun that he didn't bother to hide anymore.
| ||
 |
|||
